


Learning the Ropes

by PettyWhiteRose



Series: PWR Marvel AU [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Teamwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 06:26:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 67,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8193650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PettyWhiteRose/pseuds/PettyWhiteRose
Summary: Steve Rogers, recently awakened, learns the ups and downs of the 21st Century with the help of some unexpected friends. Follows the general movie storylines with some huge differences. No Slash. Movieverse AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: This is my first fanfiction, although I've been reading them for years. I'm stuck on the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and since I make up stories about its characters in my head constantly, I decided to post one and see where it leads. I'm not sure where this story will go, exactly, but I hope to stay true to the characters, especially the ones belonging to Marvel. Please review with contructive criticism if you think that I make a character do or say something that they actually would not. Thank you for reading! ~PettyWhiteRose_ **

Steve Rogers rode his motorcycle toward SHIELD's Triskelion headquarters on a bright April morning, thinking apprehensively about the day ahead. That it was a morning, and a Monday, did not bother him as he needed much less sleep than the average man. He had already been up for hours, getting in a workout before he started his 'work day'. Steve's hesitance to enter was caused instead by the phone call he had received the night before from SHIELD's Agent Hill.

The phone had rung at nine o'clock, and Steve had fumbled to press the answer key on the touchscreen before holding the device up to his ear. "Hello, Steve Rogers speaking," he tried to sound professional and not like he'd been watching ridiculous amounts of TV trying to catch up on all the news he'd missed. He'd only been awake for about a week, but he was already bored from sitting around, and the best way he could think of to get out in the new world was to learn about it.

"Captain Rogers," Hill sounded like she was slightly distracted, and the sound of turning pages in the background confirmed it. "Are you free tomorrow morning? We'd like to make an appointment with you around ten-thirty."

"I'm free ma'am. May I ask what this is about?" Steve had been examined by all sorts of doctors, scientists, and various other people since he'd woken up. This was the first time anyone had asked for an appointment, though. He was staying in SHIELD quarters, so they always knew where to find him and when.

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say exactly what we'll be discussing. Consider it a professional meeting." Hill was still flipping pages.

"I'll need to know where I'm going, ma'am." Steve was already a little tired of the secrecy surrounding pretty much everything at SHIELD. He'd been locked out of the men's room once until someone with a keycard came along.

"The Triskelion, room four-zero-three-one. Thank you for your cooperation, Captain." Hill had stopped reading, and was now focusing on something else. Steve could hear Fury talking in the background.

"Right. Signing off." Steve pressed the End button before remembering that all you had to say was "goodbye" these days, since there were no operators to finish your call. He shrugged it off and filed it away to remember next time. So for the rest of the night, Steve had gone about his routine occasionally wondering about his meeting in the morning, and more often speculating on the ads that appeared on his television screen.

Who needed a foot-shaver, anyway?


	2. Chapter 2

Steve's apprehension grew slightly as he parked his motorcycle in the underground garage of SHIELD's Triskelion. Mysterious meetings with strangers had not turned out well in most of the modern movies he'd watched so far. He squared his shoulders inside the leather jacket he'd requested, and used his keycard to open the elevator doors.

The elevator zoomed to the fortieth floor, and Steve found himself missing the music that used to accompany such rides. With a decidedly non-melodic beep, the doors opened to let him out and to admit three agents in professional garb. Steve felt a bit under-dressed, remembering that Hill had called this a professional meeting, but he also had no suits to wear yet, so his leather jacket, a t-shirt, jeans, and combat boots were the best he could offer. He'd been told his original iconic uniform was in a museum somewhere in D.C.

The long hallway housed many conference rooms with glass walls and tan blinds drawn to give privacy. To the left of each door there was a room number, and 4031 was just a short walk from the elevator. Steve didn't pause before opening the door.

The first thing he noticed was the brightness from the ambient light reflecting off a small, round table. At the table sat a young woman with her dark brown hair falling around her shoulders in waves. Warm brown eyes appraised him, and her un-lipsticked lips formed a smile when their eyes met. She appeared to have been doing something with her cell phone, but she had stood upon Steve's entrance.

Steve had a suspicion that he was either in the wrong room, or SHIELD was trying to find him a date, because this dame looked a lot like Peggy, and like the woman assigned to him when he'd woken up in that sham hospital last week. Anger, loss, and loneliness all took hold of his heart, even as he hid them behind his go-to soldier expression.

"Captain Rogers?" the woman asked, and Steve nodded, thanking God she had a neutral American accent.

"It's an honor to meet you Sir." She stepped around the table, and Steve noted that her dark blue jeans, purple tunic-shirt-thing, and loafers were probably as casual as his own attire.

He remembered his manners, and met her in the middle of the room, holding out his hand. She took it, still smiling, "My name is Eleanore Engman, and I'm here as a psychological analysis consultant for SHIELD."

"You're young," Steve blurted. He paused, surprised and embarrassed. Maybe she wasn't as young as she looked, around twenty-three or so, but Steve had mostly seen doctors and shrinks who were old men. Either way, it had to be insulting to just be judged on her age, and she did have an air of confidence about her. He waited apprehensively for her reaction to his slight.

Instead, she laughed once and let go of his hand. "I'll grow out of it," she said, "And anyway, so do you, for someone born in 1918."

Steve found himself almost grinning back, "I'll have to give you that one, ma'am." _Not easily insulted. Good._

She crossed back behind the table, and reached under it, emerging with medium-sized gray backpack. "So, did you get any indication you were meeting with me, or was it a surprise?" she asked as she zipped her phone into one of the top pockets.

Steve wondered how to answer. The term "psychological analysis" had put him on edge, and he wanted this interview to be successful so he could start really doing his job again. In the end, though, he decided honesty was always best. "I just got a call last night to come to this room this morning. Agent Hill didn't say what it was about, ma'am."

"Kind of the same for me, but they called two days ago to talk to me about it." She moved efficiently, putting her backpack on and coming back to stand in front of him as she finished speaking. Before he could reply, she was talking again, "Want to go get a cup of coffee? Meeting in meeting rooms is so awkward, although this one served its purpose."

"Um, sure? Is Agent Hill going to meet us somewhere?" Steve had been under the impression that this meeting would be moderated by the terse, albeit familiar woman.

Miss Engman, looked up at him smiling again, and Steve found himself instinctively returning the expression, though with more reserve. "I think she's giving us time to get familiar, but I'm sure she'll be able to find us in the canteen."

"While that is true," Agent Hill said as she walked through the soundless door, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't go wandering off during the introductory stage of this meeting."

Miss Engman just grinned at Hill, and followed her to sit at the table. Steve noticed that Agent Hill and Miss Engman both seemed familiar with each other, without any of the formality between them that SHIELD agents usually had. He followed and sat across from both of them at the table, with his back to the window.

"Now, if we may begin," Agent Hill started, looking at Steve and setting a couple of files on the table, "Miss Engman was called here by SHIELD specifically to assess your readiness for field work, as well as to help you adjust to the twenty-first century. You, Captain Rogers, have the choice to see her, or someone else appointed by SHIELD, but Miss Engman came most highly recommended."

"You'll have a few days after this meeting to decide, so don't feel pressured," Miss Engman interjected.

"Yes, as she stated." Hill sounded a little annoyed. "Please understand that this is not a reflection on you or your character, Captain Rogers. It is merely a formality designed to keep you and agents working with you safe in the field."

"I'll also be catching you up on the last seventy years," Miss Engman was looking past him, out the window, but she refocused on his face as she talked. She smiled again, at the end.

"Yes, so this meeting is to give you two a chance to exchange information, and decide whether or not you want to work together." Agent Hill looked like she was finished, at least for now.

Steve felt like it was his turn to speak. He wasn't into sharing a lot of personal information, and he still didn't like the idea of anyone telling him when it was OK to go and do what he wanted. If he had to choose, though, Miss Engman seemed like the least professional and most understanding person he was likely to get. Every time she'd interjected while Agent Hill was talking, it was with information he'd have wanted to know. She also just seemed friendly and personable overall, so maybe he could find a friend in her, outside of people who worked only for SHIELD. "Is there anything you need to know about me that the history books and SHIELD files won't tell you?"

Miss Engman lit up and began speaking rapidly, "Actually, yes. What was your exact experience waking up in modern New York? Have you been anywhere either there or in D.C. recently? Are there any places you'd like to see? Do you have things you want to learn about modern technology or culture? Things along those lines. But we can get to that later, if you decide to meet with me. Right now, are there any things you'd like to know about me?"

Steve hoped she'd written those questions down, because there were too many to answer all at once. He decided the last one was the most important, but he had no idea how to respond to it. What did you ask someone, when meeting them? And yet, this was more important than other times he'd met people here, because this woman could control whether he went into the field or not.

"I know that's a very general question," Miss Engman interrupted his wandering thoughts with another smile, "so why don't I just tell you some things about me, and you can ask questions and interrupt whenever you want."

Steve nodded, "OK." He tried to mentally prepare for a flood of information.

"OK," she breathed. "I'm a college student, a senior, at George Washington University studying Communications and Speech. It's not Psychology, but it's kind of like it, and it does help me understand people better. My major isn't why they called me in here, but I'll get to that. I'm nineteen years old, so you're right." Steve started at her age, and she grinned, "I am very young, but I took a lot of college courses in high school, and I've worked to graduate early. I want to be a SHIELD field agent someday, which is not why I went to college at all, but I'm glad to have a degree. My mother was a SHIELD agent, and my boyfriend works with them, and that's how I'm known to SHIELD at all. They don't usually work with people like me, but since I've been around here so long—"

"Hold on, what do you mean 'people like you'?" Steve asked. As far as he knew, anyone could become an agent if they went through training and were qualified.

"Eleanore, we discussed this." Hill actually sounded forbidding, and Miss Engman looked at her defiantly.

"Maria, I know. But this is information about _me_ , so I have the right to give it out as I choose. He should know about it, too, in advance. I talked to Darren, and he agrees with me, and this is my choice. I know you're concerned—"

"But it's not just your choice." Agent Hill was absolute, and Steve started to feel frustrated at being talked about when he was right there. "He hasn't been informed about any of that yet, and SHIELD has the right to—"

"What, protect me from information? Like when you woke me up and tried to tell me it was 1944? That doesn't work out so well." Steve was sick of the secrets, and of being in the dark. Before he could go on, though, Miss Engman broke in.

"Captain Rogers, we're not trying to talk as if you're not here," she sounded apologetic. "It's just that this information concerns my personal safety, and if it were to be leaked, then both I and people I care about could be in danger. Agent Hill doesn't want to hide this from you, we just don't know how you'll react."

Steve felt himself calming slightly with her words, as understanding swept through his mind. "What could be so bad? Are you from the past too?" He joked, "Did you use to work for the Nazis or Hydra?" He looked at Miss Engman for a smile at his words, but she was frowning thoughtfully.

A silence descended on the room, and Steve began to worry he was right. Suddenly, Miss Engman seemed to process what he'd said, and she looked up at him, slightly alarmed.

"It's nothing like that," she assured him. "It's something else. And I'm going to tell you. Right now." She took a deep breath, and Agent Hill shifted in her seat.

"There's a new type of human," Miss Engman started. "People born with what is known as the X-Gene. Sometimes it lies dormant all their lives, or they don't notice its effects. More often, though, it grants 'superpowers,'" she crooked her fingers around the word. "I'm one of these people, and we're called mutants. We're a major minority; only a tiny fraction of the population has the X-Gene. Some people, people without the gene, don't like us, and they try to attack anyone they can find who shows any sign of being different from a 'normal'"—air quotes again— "human." She looked up at him, as though he were a judge about to read her sentence.

He thought for a moment, looking down at the table, at his reflection. Steve remembered how widespread intolerance was when he was growing up, although his parents had told him that all _people_ were equal in God's eyes. Steve had seen the "separate-but-equal" facilities for people of color, and he'd seen the irrational fear shared by whites against anyone who was the least bit different. He supposed he'd gone to sleep in one type of racist world and had awoken in another. Then he realized what Miss Engman and Agent Hill must be afraid of— that he'd react the same way to her difference as many had acted towards other nationalities in the past. He looked back up into Miss Engman's worried eyes, and his heart went out to her. To be afraid of being judged, rejected, _hurt_ because of something you were born with… Well, people obviously hadn't changed much in seventy years, but neither had he.

He knew he had to reassure her. "Miss Engman, I was raised to see all people as equals, to judge someone by their actions, and this is no different. I'll work with you, if you'll have me." The look of pure relief on her face tugged at his heart again, and he knew he'd made the right choice.

"Thank you, Captain Rogers," Miss Engman said with feeling. "But don't choose to work with me just for this. You can still have your days to decide, and I'll still understand if you want someone more professional or experienced." She was still smiling,

Agent Hill stood, looking much more relaxed, while still exuding strait-laced professionalism. "I think that's all of this interview I need to be here for. You two can continue as you like, but Miss Engman, don't forget to inform us if you schedule another meeting." She turned to Steve with a nod, "Captain," and then she walked out.

Miss Engman watched her walk out, and then grinned at Steve. "So," she said. "About that coffee…"


	3. Chapter 3

They ended up not going to the Triskelion's canteen, instead walking outside the building and down the street a couple of blocks, to a small coffee shop Miss Engman suggested. Steve was glad to see a little of the city while not running or on his motorcycle, and walking while talking was comfortable.

"So what have you seen of the city so far?" Miss Engman asked as they exited the building. In the sunlight, her dark hair had red tones to it, and she walked with a brisk pace. She was tall for a woman, he noticed, the top of her head at his cheek. People had grown taller since the 40's, he'd found. Her skin was lightly tanned, likely from walking to and from class in the summer sun. She looked… fit, he supposed. Like Agent Hill. Thinner than women from the 40's usually tried to be, but she wasn't as thin as the women he'd seen on modern television. Her face was nicely round, and her large brown eyes looked up at him,, waiting for an answer.

"Not much, only from the SHIELD barracks to the main building, plus some walking paths." Steve observed how much the traffic was picking up as it neared lunchtime, then remembered his manners. "Can I carry your bag for you?" he asked as he'd been taught.

"Hm? Oh, um, sure. If you want. Thank you." Miss Engman did not seem to be prepared for this, but she handed the backpack over to Steve.

He was surprised at how much it weighed. It wasn't heavy for him, but it felt like it would be uncomfortable to lug around all day. "What's in here, rocks?" he asked jokingly.

"Textbooks," Miss Engman smiled in return. They came to an intersection, and she pushed a button with an arrow on it, which responded, "Wait."

"No, you wait," she muttered, then looked at Steve as though embarrassed. "It can't hear me, I just talk to inanimate things sometimes. A lot."

"So do I," he responded, thinking of his cellular phone. He'd spent so much time trying to figure out what it even was, and when a call came through it still startled him.

"What was living without college like?" Miss Engman suddenly asked. "I mean, I know there were colleges, but did you ever want to go to one? And how far was it normal to go in school before you started working? High school? Eighth grade?"

"Usually, parents tried to get their kids through high school," Steve told her. "Only a few kids tried college, and not many families could afford it. I went to art school before I joined the Army. What is it like with college, then?"

"Stressful and expensive." Miss Engman grimaced. "You spend your whole time in school hearing how good grades will get you into college… and they will. But then, once you get to high school or even as early as middle school you have to start really shaping up, joining clubs, giving back to the community so you can put all your accomplishments on scholarships. And if you don't have time for a lot of clubs, like if you're working to save up for college, then you're taken out of the running for a lot of scholarships anyway. But I was lucky. I got a few good scholarships for G.W. University, and my mom had saved up money for my education."

"So how many clubs were you in?"

"A stupid amount." She sounded annoyed, and rolled her eyes before looking up at him. "I hated high school."

"Why?" He was surprised, not because he had liked school all that much, but because she sounded like someone who would.

"The people, mostly. I got along with most of the teachers, but I never understood people my age. I still don't always, I guess, but in college you get to choose your friends a lot more than in high school. I probably sound like a snob, but— and also, they don't teach you anything about survival in the real world!" She got more enthusiastic, bringing her hands up to express her thoughts. "They spent so much time on things I'm never going to need, like tons of math, and people should have known how to write a sentence by twelfth grade, but they never talked about things we'd really need, like taxes! I had no idea how to do taxes my first year out of high school, and I'm still scared of messing up. But I digress." She shook her head, and looked back up at him "Did you enjoy school?" she asked.

"I liked learning things," Steve said. "I know my mom worked hard so I could complete high school, so I tried my best and got good grades. She always knew I wanted to be a soldier, though. Even if I didn't qualify, she believed in me."

"So did you have more than one teacher per grade, or one per subject?" Miss Engman asked.

"One teacher per— hey!" a man in a suit who was on his phone had walked right in between them and bumped his way through. Steve looked back at him, and the man just kept walking and talking on his phone.

"Sorry," Miss Engman said. "People might be more rude now. But if he'd looked back, he would have apologized to you." She laughed up at him, "Then he would have run away."

"People haven't changed that much, actually," Steve said, thinking of all the times he'd been beaten-up for standing up to rude bullies.

"Here's the coffee shop, though you might actually want lunch now?" Miss Engman questioned.

"Anything sounds fine, ma'am. You call the shots." Steve was actually hungry, but he supposed a person with a normal metabolism might not be.

"OK, we'll get coffee and then… a vendor-produced meal." She waived at the carts lining the street on either side.

They ordered their coffee from Cafe Espresso, Steve's plain black, Miss Engman's "coffee-flavored sugar-milk". Steve was a little overwhelmed by the options thrown at him, so while he was looking through the board, Miss Engman paid.

Steve was miffed, and vowed to pay for lunch, but Miss Engman laughed, "It's just coffee, don't worry about it!"

They walked down the row of vendors outside, until Steve mentioned he'd never had a corn dog. Miss Engman told him that that was practically un-American, and so he bought them each one from the vendor. Meals in hand, they walked to a small courtyard park where many others were enjoying their lunch, and they sat at a table for two.

Miss Engman was pretty quiet while eating, occasionally pausing to smile at him or raise her eyebrows in a conspiratorial way. Steve found himself wondering about her "mutation," but he didn't know if she'd want to share that much information yet. He decided to go for it, anyway, because she'd said he could ask questions about her as well.

Checking to make sure no one could hear him, he leaned in and asked, "So when you say 'superpowers,' what do you mean?"

She calmly put down her coffee and also leaned closer, "Well, sometimes it manifests physically… Like I've seen a guy with retractable spikes all over, or people with claws or gills. Other times, like with me, they are hidden. I'm an empath, which means I can read others' emotions and control them to an extent."

Steve sat up straighter, and wondered if she'd tried it on him. Thinking back, he didn't suspect manipulation, but she had probably read his emotions when they met. "Did you…?"

"Only when you opened the door to the meeting room, and when that guy bumped you earlier. It's a reflex, but I usually try to keep it in check to give people privacy and to prevent being overwhelmed." She looked like she was trying to read his emotions just from his looks now, staring into his eyes, and appearing concerned. "I really don't manipulate people unless there's a dangerous situation I can help with. Please believe me."

"I… do," Steve decided. "So that's why you're so highly recommended for me."

"Yeah. That, and I'm really good at seeing patterns." Steve raised an eyebrow and she explained, "Once I get to know someone reasonably well, I can usually tell what they're going to do or say. It's not mind-reading, but it almost seems like it sometimes. But it's really not, I have an expert's opinion on it."

"Meaning…" Steve lead.

"An actual mind-reader. A telepath. Whose name I won't reveal, because he helps kids and people like me to find a safe place in the world."

"OK," Steve allowed. "Any other powers?"

She gestured for him to lean in again, and he did. Taking the lid off her coffee cup, she said, "Make sure no one's watching."

They both looked around casually, and then she hunched over the cup again, motioning Steve to do the same.

"It's a good thing you can block the view of the table," she said as she started moving her hand over the steaming liquid. She flattened her palm and nothing happened, but then, with a gesture like an octopus swimming, she lifted her hand and the coffee followed her movement. Steve felt his eyes widen as she lowered it back into the paper cup and replaced the lid.

"Also, I can heal people if I have water to drink afterward. That's the whole list." She looked at him for more reaction.

"Well, at least you can defend yourself." Steve knew she might still think he was going to feel fear, but honestly, she wasn't the worst he'd seen. He told her that, "… not even close. Compared to the guy I fought for the Cube, you're a dreamboat."

"Aw, Captain Rogers, you make me blush," she was joking along with him, and for a moment it felt like they hadn't met this morning in order for her to determine his field readiness.

Until it did.

"What's wrong?" she asked in response to his expression, which he felt was probably… strange.

"Nothing. I mean…" Steve was trying to work it out. "This doesn't feel like an appointment."

"It's not, it's just lunch."

"You're psychoanalyzing me."

"Not right now. Or rather, all the time."

"Which one?" He was genuinely confused now.

"Both. I'm not consciously judging your behavior, but if you did something outside the social norm, then I would notice it and analyze that."

"It sounds like I could do this job."

"You probably could, but I'm the one they called in. Also, you can't psychoanalyze yourself." Her eyes were twinkling at him as she took a drink of her coffee, now almost gone. "At least not effectively. And you also are analyzing me. We all analyze others both consciously and subconsciously. It's part of communication."

"So this is what you're studying. In college." Steve felt incredulous that there could be fields of study devoted to such simple topics. Maybe it's not as simple as it sounds?

"Yeah, that and my General Education courses. I mean, if you want, I can tell you about the basics of meteorology or geology, or —"

"How do you report about me to SHIELD?" Steve immediately regretting his rude interruption.

She didn't seem phased by it. "This isn't that kind of meeting, Captain. I'm not evaluating you right now, as I said. We're just getting to know each other. Really, the purpose of this is for you to gather information about me, and whether you want to work with me or not. If you decide that you do want this, then we can figure out where to go from there." She paused, looked away, then smiled back at him, "I'm really winging this. I have no idea what I'm doing. All I know is that Agent Hill called me in on a recommendation, and I accepted."

"So why are you doing this?" Steve asked.

"I really just want to help. I'll probably end up being more like a friend than any kind of therapist. That's why I said if you want a more professional person, I'll understand." She started collecting her empty corndog container and her coffee cup, and Steve did the same and stood with her.

"So, are you bored yet?" she asked, as they turned back toward the Triskelion.

"Not at all," Steve answered. "This is more than I've talked to anyone since I woke up."

"What have you been doing? I know it's only been about what? A week? But you must have found something to pass the time."

Steve let out a somewhat bitter-tasting laugh, "Really, just medical appointments, scientific experiments, and a couple briefings on current events. In my free time I use the gym and try to catch up." He looked down at Miss Engman, who was frowning.

"How many experiments would you say?" she asked.

"Oh, I don't know. A few every day. They're trying to reproduce the serum, and also figure out how I didn't age in the ice." Steve looked at her stern expression. "What about you? You're going to college, and you said something earlier about a boyfriend?"

"Hm?" She appeared to be coming back from a distance. "Oh, yeah. Darren. He's great, the best man in the world. No offense." He half smiled to let her know he wasn't offended, and she smiled back. "He's graduated already, and he works with his dad's company sometimes, doing computer stuff and inventing things, and he works with SHIELD when he feels like it. He's a genius, seriously. But also just really kind and nice, most of the time."

"Most of the time?" Steve wondered if she wasn't too smitten with a rotten guy.

"He's always kind to me. He just gets snarky sometimes when other people won't believe his ideas, or when they ask him for basic tech support. And when I say 'snarky' I mean, he's nice to their faces, but complains about them to me after he's fixed everything." She looked up at him, smiling a different smile now, "He's really the best."

"Sounds like a winner." Steve didn't know how to talk to dames, though Miss Engman was helping him along more than most. They were almost back at the Triskelion anyway, and Miss Engman seemed comfortable with silence, which Steve found surprising and refreshing. He began thinking about the rest of his day, wondering if there were any more tests he'd have to take.

"Here's my ride."

He was pulled back to the present by Miss Engman stopping in front of a small, dull-green car that looked, well, shabbier than the flashy cars in the guest parking lot. It was sitting under the shade of a tree. Under the tree lay a large, black dog. Steve thought it looked more like a wolf he'd seen in Europe, and it stood upon Miss Engman's approach and looked at him menacingly. It had the strangest blue eyes, and Steve wondered if it was blind. Miss Engman continued unlocking her car as the dog started coming towards them, loping with its head down, teeth slightly bared.

Definitely not blind, then.

Steve was about to grab Miss Engman's arm to put himself between her and the dog, when it loped up and got between them, still glaring.

"Here, Jet. Oh," she glanced from the dog to Steve. "Jet, be nice. Look," she stepped back to Steve, patting him on the upper arm, "see? Nice human. Not a threat."

The dog sniffed at Steve's pant leg disdainfully before hopping into the car. It sat in the passenger seat, pointedly not looking at either of them.

"Sorry, that's Jet." She looked at the dog, then back to Steve apologetically. "He's a great friend. Very protective. We go everywhere together."

"Part wolf?" Steve asked. He was honestly curious.

"Um, no, but something wild I suppose." Miss Engman smiled, then took her backpack from him. "It was great meeting you, Captain Rogers."

"Thanks, it was a pleasure, ma'am." Steve wondered who he'd tell if he wanted her to be his therapist-person-thing.

"Just Eleanore, please. Or Elle, if you're comfortable with that. Have a great day, Captain Rogers, and I'll maybe see you later!" she swept into the car, hitting the dog with her pack, probably on purpose as she laughed at its expression of disgust.

Steve watched her drive away. The window was down, and he thought he heard her say, "We have to work on your people skills," to the dog before she was on the main road.

Inwardly grinning, Steve headed back into the Triskelion's main reception area, where he strode up to the front desk.

"Captain Rogers, how can I help you?" the question came not from the receptionist, but from Agent Hill, who had seemingly appeared from thin air to stand behind him.

Steve turned to face her, "My answer is yes. I'd like to work with Miss Engman."

"Excellent," Agent Hill's face didn't waiver. "I'll alert her to get in touch with you within the next couple of days."

"Captain Rogers!" a voice sounded across the main room, causing Steve to flinch. He'd come to know it all too well, along with some others over the past few days.

A puffy, short man with wispy white hair panted up to his side. "Captain Rogers, there you are! We've been wanting to run a few more tests on you today, if you're available?"

"Well, it seems you're in good hands. Good day, Captain." And with that, Agent Hill abandoned him to the scientists and doctors, who claimed his time for the rest of the afternoon.


	4. Chapter 4

Steve spent the rest of the day being poked, prodded, run, talked at, talked about, and observed by the scientists and doctors at SHIELD. Some of the tests were painful, like when they took some fluid from his spinal cord with a hypodermic needle. Others were just annoying, like the treadmill runs he'd endured almost daily since waking, with a technician constantly asking him whether or not he could go any faster until he maxed out the machine. They kept bringing in new machines. Steve didn't know what all these were actually for, but he remembered Doctor Erskine doing tests that were also painful and boring, so he trusted the doctors with what they were doing. When these were over and the technicians agreed they'd had enough for the day, Steve put on his street clothes and headed out of the changing room.

"… don't care what it's in the name of. You don't test people like this." A familiar, yet out-of-place voice was saying sternly. Steve stopped out of sight behind the door to the main lab.

"Miss, with all due respect, you do not have the authority to come in here and tell me how to do my job." The lead doctor sounded patronizing, "And frankly, I don't know how you got clearance to come into this facility."

"With no respect, because you aren't due any, doctor, I have the authority to tell Captain Rogers about these tests, and more importantly, that he has the right to refuse them."

"The Captain is old enough to fend for himself, young lady—"

"Don't 'young lady' me, you old android fusspot. Tell me, did anyone ever tell you how to do your job? Because I believe that the basic rights of any patient are to know what the procedures are before they are done, and to refuse them if they choose to. I know that no one told Captain Rogers this, or anything about the tests you've been running on him, and I think you've been letting it slide." A breath, and then, "Taking advantage of the scientific opportunity. Many men before you have made the same mistake. Nuremberg Trials ring a bell?"

"I've listened to quite enough of this from you." The doctor was actually shouting. Steve stepped closer and put his hand on the door. "Gentlemen, please escort this young lady out of the building, and put a general alert out that she may never be allowed into this laboratory again."

It sounded like they were turning away from him, and like Eleanore was in real trouble, so Steve soundlessly opened the door and stepped through. Eleanore was being manhandled by two surly-looking guards, and the doctor was leering down at her triumphantly. Steve didn't now if he'd get there before they threw her out the door. There were several counters and a lot of lab equipment whirring between himself and them. None of them were facing Steve, except the woman in question, and so he got to see what followed.

"Gentlemen," Eleanore said, sounding calm and angry at the same time. It was actually a bit threatening, until Steve saw the dog from earlier baring his teeth at the guards. Then it was alarming. "I believe you missed my identification badge," she gestured to her belt. "As well as my companion, who hates it when I'm treated this way, or any way I don't like. If you don't put me down, he'll bite the crotch out of one or both of your suits before you can react. Who knows what else he'll find?" She sounded like she'd done this before.

The guards did lower their arms and step away, leaving Eleanore staring at the spluttering doctor.

"You have tasers, you foo—"

"Now, Doctor Rouldkin." Eleanore pulled something from her belt, and reached to yank the identity card from the doctor's shirt. "Do you see these two cards? See how one has Clearance Level Black, along with my picture and name, while one only has, oh…" she laughed derisively, "Level Blue?"

I don't have an access card. I should see about that. Steve's logical thoughts were startling, cutting through the blurry buzz filling his mind. He wasn't feeling anything. Not yet.

The doctor swallowed, but didn't answer. The guards nodded at Eleanore and exited the nearby door.

"I said," Eleanore got closer, and her voice actually rose. "Do. You. See. These. Cards." Steve noticed the dog back around to bump the doctor's legs.

He jumped. "I see them." He still sounded angry, and also unbelieving now.

"Then you now understand how I got into this lab. You also understand that I have the authority to order you to do anything SHIELD deems productive. Do you follow this logic?"

"I do."

"I now limit Captain Rogers' tests to once per week, with a maximum of two tests done at a time. He cannot be ordered to complete the tests. The tests must work around his schedule. He must fully understand what is being done, and I will get a copy of each signed consent form. He will not ever be in contact with you, specifically, again, and I will find an outside professional to monitor his physical exams. I will be in close contact with anyone administering tests, and I will accompany the Captain if he wishes. I will be talking to your superiors about this. Consider this a warning for replacement. You're outdated, and we need to find someone who knows how to be a doctor instead of a butcher." She stood the doctor up straight and pinned his card neatly back in place, all anger gone from her bearing, though command remained. "I trust I made myself clear?"

"You did." Doctor Rouldkin was clearly angry, and sounded like a sullen child being punished for skipping school. Steve realized he'd lost feeling in his fingers from clenching his fists too hard. Funny, he didn't feel the anger, only the physical reaction.

"I'm so glad to hear it. I'll leave you to your work." She turned to head out the door.

"Wait." The doctor looked up at her as the mounted the stairs, the dog trailing behind her.

She paused and looked down on his expectantly.

"Who will tell Captain Rogers about the… changes… to our lab time?" Rouldkin actually sounded nervous now.

"Well, he's just heard most of our lovely and informative conversation." Eleanore smiled back at Steve as though nothing were wrong in this world where doctors weren't to be trusted. He couldn't feel his face to know what his expression was in reply.

The doctor had turned, and was giving a look of genuine fear to Steve, which he registered as Not Important.

"If he wants the abridged version," Eleanore continued, "I imagine you've got documentation of your research and findings. I can wait while you give him copies of everything. If he wishes for a private consultation, I can leave him here with you."

Steve knew she was asking him. He also knew he wanted the private consultation more than he should. "The documents." He forced the words out, feeling them grate against his throat.

His voice sounded so much calmer than he felt, now. Don't show that much anger. You can actually hurt people with it.

Rouldkin leapt into action, bringing files up on a computer screen, and a nearby printer started spewing paper. Eleanore grabbed a folder and started organizing them inside it. Steve focused on walking to the stairs, and climbing them sedately. Don't look back, don't look back…

"Thank you, Doctor Rouldkin. We'll be meeting again soon." Steve heard another sort of threat in Eleanore's tone as the door shut. Steve stood in the hallway and noticed the dog had come out with him. She must be close behind.

Sure enough, the door opened to reveal a final protest. "I-I-I… I have tenure with SHIELD! I've been working here all my life." The man sounded absolutely panicked, and Steve tried not to feel too good about it.

"Then it sounds like it's time for you to consider retirement." Eleanore shut the door and came to stand in front of Steve. They were in a long hallway, connected to other labs with other scientists who did God-knew-what inside those doors.

"Captain Rogers?" Eleanore sounded cautious now. Steve breathed in and out through his nose before he looked down at her. She had pulled her long hair into a messy bun, and she smelled like some type of something — food— he couldn't identify. He noticed she wasn't wearing makeup, and she hadn't been earlier. He focused on these things because his thoughts were racing too far ahead for him to make sense of, and he was concerned about his reaction once he caught and tamed them.

"…Captain?" She was worried, now. The dog was rubbing against his leg, getting between the two of them. Her eyes centered on his fists, his shoulders, and then back to his own eyes, whose expression he still didn't know. "Would you like some pasta?" She asked in a calm voice. "I'll cook."

Steve considered the off-hand query, nodded, and followed her out the doors to the main lobby, where they took the elevator to the parking garage. It was mostly empty, only a few vehicles left on their level, including Eleanore's car and Steve's bike.

"Follow me to my place? It isn't far." Again, Steve nodded and mounted his bike, moving automatically to start the engine and change gears.

Eleanore backed out of her parking spot, and took the lead. Steve had no trouble keeping up, as he followed her across the intersections into new parts of town. New to him, anyway. And he wasn't really seeing them at the moment through the haze of shock and rage, so they'd be new to him still when he came back. His soldier's instincts still kept a general map of where he was in relation to the Triskelion, the barracks, and the walking paths he'd been on. Steve gripped his bike handles a bit harder, realizing that he'd probably know much more of D.C. by now, if not for the incessant testing, and why hadn't he questioned it?

He came back to himself when Eleanore's car started blinking on the left side, which he presumed meant she was turning. She did, and he turned too, into a small parking area, closed off from the general public by a tall hedge on three sides and an apartment building on one. Eleanore parked, and Steve took a spot labeled Guest: Un-permitted Overnight Parking Will Be Towed At Owner's Expense Monday-Friday.

He shut off his bike, and just sat there for a second before turning back to Eleanore, who was waiting for him, silhouetted against the light of the building's door.


	5. Chapter 5

They climbed a flight of stairs, and then Eleanore led them down a bright yellow hallway up to a cherry wood door marked 216C. She unlocked it and let Steve into the apartment, along with the dog.

"Sorry, but can you stay here for a second? I'll just run and get you a pass for your bike so it isn't towed." She appeared calmer, but still cautious.

Steve nodded, and she gently shut the door behind her. He could detect her running up another flight of stairs to the third floor, but only because of his enhanced hearing. He reached to flick on the light switch near the door, and surveyed the room he'd walked into.

There was a kitchen to his right, and a small doorway leading to what looked like a bathroom to his left. The kitchen actually had a gas stove, which Steve found remarkable. Some things did stick, he supposed. The counter was old, stained wood that matched the cupboards, and the floor was linoleum. A small machine that emitted coffee smells, but with no pot, stood on the counter next to a silver toaster and a knife rack, with a sink next to them. The refrigerator was next, and there the kitchen ended, cut off by a wall that served as a divider and held a small island counter top, which had a few barstools around it. A small light covered by a white shade hung from the ceiling above this island, and directly under it was an artificial white rose along with a sprig of lilac in a clear glass vase. Everything looked very clean, though unmilitary.

As Steve explored the area, the dog trotted off. Steve jumped when the light in the next room came on, and he went over to investigate. The dog had gone into what seemed to be the living room with a long couch and coffee table against the picture windows, which were covered by blinds and a valance. The living room was open to the kitchen and the entryway, and from there proceeded to a darkened bedroom situated to the left which housed a queen-sized bed, a desk, and a dresser, and a small closet. To the right was another bedroom, Steve found, only this one had a smaller bed, another desk, and a wardrobe-dresser-cabinet. All of the walls were a classic creamy white, except for the one that faced the outside in the living room, which was bare brick mortar. Other than the kitchen, the rest of the apartment seemed to have hardwood floors. The dog— Jet —completed his rounds of the place and began turning lights off, leaving only the living room and kitchen illuminated. Steve wondered what it was looking for, then shook it off as Eleanore came back in the front door.

"Jet's done his rounds and given you a tour, I suppose?" she asked, cheerfully. She set her bag down in the living room, and moved into the kitchen. Steve was relieved when she moved on without a reply from him. "I don't know what you like, so I'll make what I like, and then you can decide whether to eat it or not." She got out a large pot and began pouring water into it from the sink's faucet. "Have a seat anywhere."

Steve glanced at the various chairs stationed around the small home, deliberating. _Should I take a seat on the couch so she can cook in peace? Or would—_

Eleanore appeared in front of him, interrupting his thoughts. "Here, come sit at the island while I cook."

 _Easy enough._ He followed the order, and she placed a glass full of water in front of him.

"The only thing else I have to drink is milk. Whole milk. Let me know if you want some." She turned and lit the burner for the stove, placing the water-laden pot above it.

_What other type of milk is there?_

Steve caught a whiff of gas before it was burned up by the fire. The dog came and sat near the door, watching both of them and occasionally walking over to inspect Eleanore's work. She cooked for a while, getting out boxes labeled _Rotini_ and _Farfalle_ , which turned out to be types of pasta, and she dumped them into the pot without measuring. Then came olive oil; just a touch, "To keep the noodles from sticking."

Steve still wasn't sure what he should be doing except sitting where she'd told him, until she plopped a cutting board, a knife, and some cooked chicken breasts in front of him.

"Sort of strips, that you wouldn't have to cut with a fork, please." And she went back to stirring the now-boiling pasta.

Steve did cut the chicken. It was cold, a bit like he felt inside. The knife was sharp: another similarity to his emotions.

"SHIELD knew it was happening?" For conversation starters, it wasn't his best. Oh well, he never had learned to talk to dames.

Eleanore slowly turned and seemed to measure her words, even as she kept stirring. "It's not that they knew. Dr. Rouldkin had been with them a long, long time, and they trusted him more than they should have. From what I understand, he has researched the Super Soldier Experiment his entire career, and he leapt at the chance to study you." She winced, whether from her words or the heat of the water he couldn't tell. "He took it way too far, but had not submitted his research or findings to SHIELD. Another week like that, and it would have been Director Fury instead of me chewing him out."

"Why was it you?" Steve felt his control slipping. He carefully put the knife down and took the napkin she offered, wiping his hands and then resting them on his legs.

"When you said something this morning about the tests, I was concerned." She took the noodles off the burner and turned it down to low. She opened a cupboard above her head, taking out a strainer, and placed it in the sink before pouring the pasta and water into it with care. Her back was to him, so Steve couldn't see her expression. She put a pot holder down on the counter, placed the pot on it, and poured the noodles back in, sans water. "I didn't think they were hurting you, but it sounded suspicious. Also, I've met Dr. Rouldkin before, and he never gave me a good impression. I went to class, then came back to get my access card from Mar— Agent Hill —and then I looked up what tests they'd run on you today in one of the research labs apart from the one you were in."

She opened the freezer, put a bag of peas in the small box sitting on her counter and turned it on. Steve watched as a light went on inside the box, and a strange humming filled the room as the peas inside rotated. Eleanore, meanwhile, was stirring white sauce into the the pasta, along with other spices that she selected from the overhead cupboard to her left.

"So why did you confront him instead of calling someone…" _older, stronger, taller_ "else?"

"That's a good question." She dumped the peas into the pasta, followed by the chicken. It smelled pretty good as she mixed it. "Probably because I just usually do things myself instead of asking someone else. I can take care of myself, you know. Also, because I don't always plan ahead. Also, having Jet around gives me a power complex, like a Chihuahua who hangs out with a Great Dane."

Steve had to smile at the mental imagery, and glanced at Jet, who gave him a superior look. He felt some of his anger melt into humor. "I don't know, you seemed to have it under control. Especially when those guards picked you up."

Eleanore turned and smiled at him, rolling her eyes. "That sense of humor will get you places. Not the White House, but places." She reached some bowls down from a cupboard, and started serving the meal.

"I've already been to the White House," Steve returned easily.

"Way to one-up." Eleanore handed him a bowl, "Eat it while it's hot. Parmesan?" She _thunked_ a green container filled with off-white powder in front of him, and then turned back to pour the rest of the pasta into a ceramic container, which she then placed in the fridge. Next, she started washing the dishes she'd used, which was done very quickly, and finally she sat down across from him at the island.

Steve shook a little of the substance from the green container onto his pasta, hoping it would taste OK.

"Now, do you want to go over the documents, or do you want to watch a movie?"

Steve thought about it, weighing his residual anger against the pasta he hadn't tried yet. More anger would make it taste bad. "What movie?"

"Anything you want. I thought something from a little after your time, like maybe John Wayne?" Steve shrugged at her. "Or we could see something more modern as an immersion tactic."

"I've heard of John Wayne." Steve said, thinking that an older movie might ease him into the modern lifestyle more quickly.

"The Duke it is!" Eleanore swept herself off the barstool and waved him over to the couch, where she set her bowl on a coaster. Steve followed with his bowl and now-empty glass, but she took the glass from him and refilled it, getting herself one as well. She handed the glasses to Steve and went into the left bedroom, returning with a rectangle, which she then opened to reveal a computer screen. Across the room from the couch was a reasonably large television not unlike the one in Steve's room, and Eleanore plugged the computer into it and turned it on.

"Let's start with _True Grit_ ," she proposed.

Steve just shrugged and said, "You're the boss, ma'am."

"I told you, it's Eleanore. Or Elle." She was still fiddling with the computer until it shared its display with the television, and a blast of music shot out of the speakers. "Immersive!" she joked, before turning it down.

"It's Steve to you, then." He decided that the entire SHIELD staff calling him Captain Rogers was enough.

"Huh? Oh, OK. Have you tried your pasta, Steve?" Eleanore came back to sit on the couch on the opposite end.

"No, and neither have you." It occurred to Steve that this was a very strange situation. For a young woman to have a strange man in her home, after only meeting him that day, and serving him supper, and watching a movie together… "Is your, ah," he gestured ineffectively into the air, "boyfriend going to be angry about this?"

"What? No, he's not the jealous type. Also, this is just hanging out and watching a movie, which two friends can do now without being in a romantic relationship. Are you uncomfortable?" she looked at him pointedly, and somehow paused the movie's opening credits.

"No, it's just… This is new, and not something I would have done before. I guess." Steve decided that, if she was comfortable, then he could be too. The dog sauntered over and flopped himself onto the couch between them, which added distance and ease to Steve's mind.

Eleanore resumed the movie, only to pause it again immediately. "Do you want your own apartment?"

"Um…" Steve had thought of moving out of SHIELD's barracks, and that idea was more appealing than ever now. "Why?"

"Because there's one down the hall that just opened up. One bedroom, one bathroom, and it looks like this," she gestured grandly to the room they were sitting in, speaking more quickly. "It's really clean. I helped my landlady clear it out, paint it, and wax the floors. I even cleaned the bathroom, although it wasn't gross. The previous tenants were clean, they just lived there a long time, so Mrs. Hirsch and I touched up the place a bit."

"I can look at it sometime," Steve offered, unsure of how to go about renting an apartment now.

"It's…" Eleanore looked at her phone, "Seven-thirty. If you want, you can look at it now?"

Taken aback, Steve hesitated. Eleanore seemed to recheck herself, and shook her head.

"Sorry, I know I rush into things. You have plenty of time to think about it. A few days, at least, before the ad is even online." _What does that mean? What line?_ "Really, don't worry about it now."

"I just… Know what? I'll see the apartment." The thought of living at SHIELD much longer made him feel sick again. He wanted to be on his own, and at least looking at an apartment would give him somewhere to start.

"Really?" Eleanore didn't wait for an answer, but leapt off the couch and rushed out the front door.

The dog looked at Steve and yawned. "She's… high-energy," he said in reply to its gaze.

"I have the key!" Eleanore appeared at the door, and Steve could hear someone else descending the stairs more slowly than she had.

Steve stood and walked to where Eleanore was waiting, and she darted across the hall to a door that near the head of the staircase. It was marked 216A, but otherwise looked the same as Eleanore's door.

"Don't open it until I meet the man!" an older woman reached the bottom of the stairs. She had gray hair, and stood a head shorter than Eleanore, but she carried herself with poise. She looked Steve up and down and asked, "So have you rented in D.C. before? Do you have references?"

"I'm a reference, Mrs. Hirsch. Captain Rogers hasn't lived in D.C. recently, so he doesn't have anyone to reference him yet." Eleanore unlocked the door with a flourish, and gestured for Steve to enter.

He did, followed closely by Mrs. Hirsch, the dog, and finally Eleanore. The apartment was much the same as Eleanore's, but instead of two bedrooms it only had the one to the left of the living room, and an extra closet attached to the kitchen.

"Quiet hours are at ten o'clock on weeknights, midnight on weekends." Mrs. Hirsch was holding a paper and a pen, and reading from it. "No parties of more than twenty people, including residents. No loud music, no noise complaints from neighbors. There's a storage area on the first floor for this apartment, about as big as that closet," she pointed, "And one pet per apartment, no exceptions. A fish counts as a pet." She glared up at Steve, "No drug deals, and no punching the walls."

She seemed to be waiting for an answer, so Steve said, "Yes ma'am. I can promise all of that." He didn't know why he was promising, since he hadn't decided to live there yet.

Mrs. Hirsch eyed him again, and held out the paper and pen. "Here's your application. Let me know if you find someplace else instead. Nice meeting you." And with that, she left Steve and Eleanore to explore the apartment.

"She's a little anti-social, but once she gets to know you she gets better," Eleanore said. She moved to turn on more lights, and Steve looked into the bathroom and closet spaces.

He actually found himself picturing his old apartment in Brooklyn and comparing it to this one. The nostalgia overwhelmed him, and he forced the thoughts away. This apartment was everything he needed, and more. He was actually thinking of moving in, which surprised him greatly. He slowed himself down, standing motionless in the doorway to the living room, and thought about this decision carefully. He would need all new furniture, of course. He'd have to get to know the neighborhood, but he already knew one neighbor. The closeness to Eleanore was going to be different. When Steve had lived in Brooklyn, Bucky had been quite a ways away, although the distance was nothing to them. At least it wouldn't be too lonely.

A sound from the other room brought Steve out of his contemplation. He moved to investigate, and found Eleanore in the bedroom inspecting the closet with a look of concentration. Seeing Steve come in, she brightened up and smiled.

"What do you think?" she asked casually. Steve could see the excitement she was trying to hide in her eyes.

"It'll be nice. Different. I'll have to invite you and… Jet," the dog glanced at him from where he stood at Eleanore's side, "over for dinner. Once I'm moved in."

"Wait… You'll take it? That's great! I'll help you fill out the application." Eleanore breezed around him and out the front door, and Steve followed her back to her apartment. He vaguely listened to her describe the rent, the deposit, and the process of hooking up the Internet. When she showed him where and what to sign, he read all of the document carefully, and it brought back some discomfort from earlier that day.

Eleanore picked up on this, and allowed him to read the agreement over in peace while she rewarmed their supper. By the time she was done doing that, Steve had signed and dated the application, and was refilling his water glass in preparation for the movie.

They sat together in companionable silence through the beginning, and Steve smiled when Mattie caught up to Cogburn and La Boef. The plot wasn't too intense, and Steve felt himself winding down, stealing glances at Eleanore, who actually looked tired.

 _It was probably a long day for her, too,_ He realized.

It was ten o'clock when the movie ended, and they both stood and stretched. Eleanore smiled at Steve, who then swept up their dishes and washed them in the sink as she protested.

"You're the guest, just let me clean later."

"I'd be a pretty terrible guest if I didn't help at all, ma'am. Eleanore." Steve found there was no drying rack, so he ended up handing the rinsed dishes to her, while she pulled the water off them and put them away in their cupboards.

That done, Eleanore and Steve both looked at the folder still sitting on the island.

"Now or later?" Eleanore asked quietly.

Steve thought about it, and decided they might as well get it over with. "Now, if it's… not too late at night?" Halfway through, he'd noticed how long he'd been there and remembered how tired normal people got.

"Now is great," Eleanore turned to the refrigerator and pulled out some milk in a gallon glass bottle. "Any for you?"

"Sure," Steve watched as she poured them both a glass.

"OK, let's get to work." Eleanore pulled a bar stool over to Steve's side, and sat the folder between them. "I'm going to organize these by date, but why don't you tell me about the tests you remember most clearly, and I'll find and explain those first."

 _She has a plan for everything._ "There was one today where they put a needle in my back and took some fluid out." _And it hurt. And I didn't even ask why it was done._ He felt anger creeping up on him again, and he forced it back. He'd use it sometime when it was good for something.

"Let's see…" she shuffled through the documents, putting them into piles he didn't know the meaning of. "Here's a lumbar puncture. Today's date, so this sounds like what we're looking for." She put the paper between them, on top of the folder. "OK, ' _lumbar puncture to test patient's spinal fluid and pressure_ '. Here," She almost fell off her stool, but righted herself and ventured to grab her computer off of the Television stand. "I think we'd better move to the floor. More room."

Steve grabbed the papers and followed her as she settled on the living room rug and began typing on her keyboard. "What are you doing?" He was genuinely curious. Computers still seemed like miracles to him, even after seeing Stark's flying car.

"I'm looking up the procedure. Here," she patted the floor next to her, and he sat so he could see the screen.

_Not that I know what I'm looking for. Or at._

"Look," she showed him a display titled _Mayo Clinic_ and below that _Tests and Procedures: Lumbar Puncture Spinal Tap_. "It says just what they put on here," she held up the paper they'd read from. "Let's see… risks." She moved her finger over what appeared to be an opaque rectangle underneath the keyboard. Steve saw a tiny arrow move over the screen, and come to rest on _Risks._ She tapped the rectangle, and a new series of words and images appeared on the screen.

_I wonder if she'll show me how these work._

"Do you have a headache?" Eleanore was staring intently at the screen, but looked up when he didn't answer right away. "Steve, do you have a headache?"

"No, and they asked me that several times after the test. Why?" He felt apprehension growing again. Medicine had come so far, and apparently it had taken doctors' principles with it.

"It's a risk associated with the procedure. But it is _very_ rare," she spoke reassuringly, and Steve found himself comforted without knowing why.

"Are you doing… emotional control right now?" he wondered aloud.

"No, I'm not. I really don't use it much." Eleanore was still intent on the screen, "Are you experiencing discomfort or pain in your lower back?"

"No."

"Looks like this test is taken care of," she reached for the folder, and asked him to mention more procedures.

Over the next hour, they checked over every test mentioned on the sheets. The running experiments were the most boring, and Steve wondered why they'd kept doing them. The most disturbing were the ones that had taken his DNA and blood.

"It looks like they took almost everything they could in hopes of replicating you," Eleanore twisted so her back popped, and then faced him again. "How are you feeling?"

"Pretty well, for someone who may be cloned soon." Steve had asked earlier, and Eleanore had confirmed that cloning was probably possible now. _Or maybe super-soldiers are obsolete with all this new technology?_

"But really," Eleanore shut the laptop— a new term he'd picked up from her — and downed the last of her milk. "Steve, it's OK to feel angry about this. It's fine to feel whatever you feel. This was wrong."

"But it's done, and anger _now_ won't change what happened," Steve countered pleasantly. "Really, ma'— Eleanore. The army used me as a show-monkey once. Like in a circus. This is just something else to watch out for. I'll try to stay away from doctors."

"Not all doctors are like this," Eleanore protested. "Most of them actually want to help their patients. I imagine Dr. Rouldkin was the same, when he was younger. I read up on his research this afternoon, and it looks like he just got more and more frustrated trying to reproduce your serum." She sighed, "I'm not that old, so I can't say I understand it, but he must have been _so_ excited to work with you, his childhood hero."

_Pretty understanding towards that doctor._

"But," she stood and took the refilled folder back to the counter, "he was wrong, and I will be having meetings with and about him this week. You can be there, if you'd like."

"I would like to be there," Steve half-grinned at her and felt a smile sink into his voice, "if only to keep the guards from getting to you again." She laughed, and he liked the sound. "I'd also like to get an I.D. with clearance level… Black, was it?" _Then maybe I can access my_ own _medical records... If someone shows me how._

"Oh, haven't they given you one?" she seemed puzzled. "We can do that this week as well. Can I see your phone?"

"Um, sure." Steve was unsure why she'd want his cell phone when hers looked more high-tech. He handed it over, though, and she pressed the button that woke it up and started messing around with the screen. Since the phone was clear, Steve could make out her name and a number along with several other things, like her address. It was all very quick and precise, and Steve hoped she'd show him how to work these futuristic machines soon.

"There," she said, handing it back to him. The screen was dark again. "I put my number in, and so you can call me anytime, and I sent myself a text so I have your number too."

"Alright, um, great." Steve understood the calling, but had no idea about the 'text.'

Eleanore yawned, and Steve looked at his watch— it was nearly midnight. "Sorry for keeping you so late, ma'am—"

"It's Eleanore, and I'm sorry for yawning rudely." She smiled again, "It'll be nice to have you as a neighbor. Knowing Mrs. Hirsch, you'll be able to move in by next week."

"Great, well," he moved toward the front door. "Good night. And thanks for supper and… everything." He hadn't realized how lonely he'd been this past week, but having the feeling removed emphasized its absence.

"It's not problem. Drive safely, and— when would you like to meet again?" she asked before, "Oh! Wait here, I'll get you a copy of my schedule."

"OK," Steve responded to empty air, as she darted to her bedroom and emerged seconds later with a sheet of paper.

"See, my classes are usually done by two PM, and I'm pretty much free the rest of the day unless I have an exam."

The blocked time grid was easy enough to understand, and Steve noted that she'd labeled eight AM through nine-thirty AM as " _personal time_ " on Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. He decided to ask later.

"Um, should we meet again tomorrow?" He hoped it wasn't too soon or too much at once. "Anytime is fine, though, really."

"Tomorrow at three will be great. Meet me at SHIELD, or I'll probably meet you there, and we'll go over the I.D. card and talk to some people about your testing and treatment." Her expression brightened, "You can meet Darren, too, if you want. He'll be at SHIELD tomorrow afternoon, working on something or other."

"Sounds great," Steve shrugged as he exited her apartment. He felt almost nervous about meeting anyone new, but at the same time, he was hoping to make more friends.

"Good. Okay, see you tomorrow. Have a great night!" Eleanore was holding the door open, and Steve waved as he headed down the staircase.

He took the permit off his motorcycle and put it in his pocket to potentially use later. Then he started his bike and drove out of the parking lot, almost smiling to himself, even as he thought of the grim events of that afternoon. It was nice to have someone to talk to in this century.

Steve found himself tired when he got back to his room in the barracks, and he settled in for a deep sleep filled with dreams of a laughing mutant, an evil doctor, and a blue-eyed dog.


	6. Chapter 6

Steve was met by Agent Hill when he entered SHIELD HQ early the next afternoon. He had taken extra time in his morning workout, and he had visited the coffee shop on his way to the Triskelion, knowing that no one was really waiting for him to show up.

"Captain Rogers," Hill greeted him in her accustomed manner.

"Ma'am," this was a pattern they'd developed in just the week Steve had been awake.

"Director Fury would like to speak with you."

Steve nodded. He'd been expecting this since he'd processed the events of the previous afternoon. She turned, and he followed her to the elevator, which took them to the seventieth floor.

The ride was quiet, as was the receptionist as she waved them through to Fury's actual office, which took up a good portion of the floor. White, bright ambient light shone from the window-walls and was reflected from every surface in the room, except from the Director of SHIELD, who sat in his dark coat and eye patch as always.

He stood when they entered the room. "Cap, good to see you again."

"Colonel," Steve saluted his commanding officer. He'd only spoken to Fury once after waking up, and that was to be told he was being moved to Washington D.C. from New York.

"I hear that one of our doctors has overstepped his bounds concerning you." Fury walked around his desk and stood in front of Steve and Agent Hill. "Maybe it seems like too little too late, but I'd like to formally apologize on behalf of SHIELD."

"The doctor told me he was under orders from you, directly, sir." Steve definitely remembered that conversation.

…My name is Dr. Rouldkin, Captain Rogers, so great to meet with you. I'll be in charge of conducting your examinations, and evaluating your health while you're working here. Director Fury personally assigned me, as I'm the most up-to-date regarding the Super-Soldier Serum…

Fury huffed, clearing his throat and shifting on his feet as he looked at Steve calmly, "I understand that he was not forthcoming with vital information. We made the mistake of trusting him because of his years of service, but we didn't consider the possibility that he had become obsessed with the Serum and, consequently, you. I apologize for that on behalf of SHIELD." Fury looked like he might actually be sorry, though it was tough to read his emotions.

"Apology accepted, Sir." Steve knew that trusting your people was part of being a leader. In an organization as large as SHIELD, it could be easy for one or two bad eggs to go unnoticed.

"That's not all I called you up here for," Fury went back to his desk, and gestured for Steve to have a seat. "Agent Hill, that will be all."

"Yes Sir," she said quietly, and left the room.

Sitting across from Fury, Steve could feel the power the man held over one of the strongest secret organizations in the world. Fury was gazing at the desk, as though contemplating his words. Steve waited for the older man to speak.

"It has been suggested to me that you be allowed to do, quote, 'light missions' so you'll feel like you're back in the swing of things."

Steve had not expected that. "Sir?"

"You're handling the transition well, and while I trust my people as professionals," Fury raised his eyebrow and looked at Steve, who nodded, "I have to point out that they have not met with you many times,, which most would call insufficient data for a solution. Hence, I'm going to another source." He paused and turned to look out the window.

Steve stayed quiet, his mind racing with the fact that he was already deemed ready for work. He wondered who the other source was. Agent Hill? Or was she the one who suggested this?

Fury looked at him intently, "I guess what I'm asking, Captain, is whether you think you're ready to be sent back into battle?"

Again, an unexpected statement. Steve considered it carefully, and tried to see all the angles. I need more time to learn the technology, that's for sure. Would I be sent out as a leader? I would need to study up on new tactics and team workings. Hell, I don't even know who the enemy is anymore. Is this a test? With a sigh, Steve knew what his answer would be.

"Sir, thank you for the consideration. I feel that I need more time to learn modern ways, and that I would be unprepared for field work at this point." He held Fury's gaze, and sensed acceptance.

Fury narrowed his eyes, holding Steve's gaze for a moment before he turned his back to look out over the Potomac River. "That is probably for the best," he said slowly. "Miss Engman, while reluctant to make a recommendation, was of the same opinion. She requested that I ask you personally, though. I believe she thinks you are more than capable of handling this century already."

Steve considered this. She spoke to Fury? When? She only met with me once, and they asked her about my operational status? Then Steve noticed that Fury seemed to be waiting for a reply.

"I think that I should have training in modern technology, Sir." Steve went with his honest opinion again.

"I agree. And Miss Engman will be your teacher, for the most part." Fury turned back to partially face Steve, "I also understand that you have found living arrangements other than the SHIELD barracks?"

"Yes Sir," Steve said. "It's not far from base, and I believe that my salary will cover the cost of rent."

Fury almost looked amused. "Yes Captain, I believe it will." Turning fully back to Steve, he nodded. "That will be all, soldier. Dismissed."

Steve saluted and walked out of the office, making his way slowly to the elevator and from there to the ground floor. He stood apart from the milling crowds, at a loss for what to do. He had around an hour still to wait for Eleanore to meet him here, and he'd already gone to the coffee shop on his way in. He decided to head to the canteen to grab lunch. He followed the short flight of stairs down to the smells of food that were wafting upwards. Steve grabbed a couple hamburgers and some fries along with a bottle of water before he turned and surveyed the room's seating. There were tables at which groups of friends sat and laughed, but there seemed to be almost no one sitting alone. That would make him stand out, and he felt a little uncomfortable about it. Steve settled for a small table with two chairs that afforded a view of the room, situated as it was in the back corner. As he walked there, agents and workers stared at him with ill-concealed curiosity.

 _I feel like I'm back in school, only without Bucky._ Steve's heart twinged painfully at the recollection of the first day he'd met his best friend.

_It was lunchtime on the first day of school and the children swarmed out of the school doors, the older ones heading to their usual spots and the youngest ones forming small groups as they tried to find a place. Steve was no different, a young first-grader trying to blend in and not be noticed much. He tried to stand near a small group of children, but they took one look at his scrawny appearance and shifted away silently. Steve was alone again, holding the lunch pail his mother had packed. He wandered over to the corner of the building and sat leaning against it as he opened his lunch and ate it quickly, looking furtively around. Despite being new to school, Steve was no stranger to larger kids trying to take his food._

_Having done with his lunch, Steve brushed the crumbs from his pants and stood to go back inside. He had almost reached the door when derisive laughter drifted across the yard._

_Steve knew that kind of mirth, and he knew it belonged to the kids a few years older than he was. Without thinking much about it, he turned and headed in the direction of the noise._

_Heading through the various play groups, Steve first glimpsed a small crowd gathered around near the playground's fence. Sounds of a scuffle came from within, along with intermittent cheers, jeers, and yelling. He shifted and nudged his way through the other children until he came upon a a gang of older boys trying to grab the lunch pail of a boy in Steve's class. As Steve reached the front, he saw one of the larger bullies land a punch on the younger boy's face, knocking him into an undignified sprawl in the dirt._

_"Hey!" Steve tried to make his voice sound much larger than he was as he shoved himself between the boy and his assailants. "You wanna knock it off? Get your own lunch."_

_"Oh, looks like little Stutterfly has a friend. I'll call you Shrimp." The boys looked eager to begin on their new target, and in a moment Steve was slumped in the dirt next to the other boy, blood dripping from his nose and a bruise already forming under one eye. He tried to block the hits, but they were from too many sources. Eventually, he settled for punching back wherever he could, his small fists barely finding purchase on the stronger bodies of his attackers._

_Finally, distantly, the school bell rang, ordering all the children back inside for continued lessons. The larger boys left quickly, anxious to avoid scrutiny. Steve and his classmate were left to brush off the dust from the skirmish in comparative peace._

_Steve looked at the boy next to him as he stood. He looked less injured than Steve felt, but then, Steve had drawn their anger where this boy had only drawn their greed. Nevertheless, a purple bruise was sprouting along his cheekbone and his face and clothes were covered in dirt. He looked back at Steve with a friendly half-grin._

_"T-those guys are jerks," he said, ruffling his shirt to get the dust out of it._

_"Yeah," Steve remarked. "Hungry jerks."_

_The boy laughed, "My n-name's Barnes. J-james B-bu-buchanan Barnes. But e-everyone calls me Bucky."_

_"Steve Rogers," Steve replied. The two boys solemnly shook hands as they'd seen their parents do. Then they smiled at each other._

_"We better head back inside. Already late on the first day." Bucky wrapped his arm around Steve's shoulders and together they sauntered into the building._

_As they were reaching the door, Bucky turned to Steve and said, "L-listen, let's have lunch together t-t-tomorrow. Maybe they w-won't pick on us if we're not a-a-alone."_

_"Okay," Steve replied._

"Captain Rogers?" the tentative voice startled Steve out of his reverie. He looked up to see a tall, thin man with a shock of dark curly hair. He was young, startlingly so. Steve thought he couldn't be more than eighteen years-old. He wore white tennis shoes, blue jeans, and a dark blue, short-sleeved button up shirt.

"Yes," Steve replied, standing up and holding his hand out. "And you are?"

"Darren Stark," the young man shook Steve's hand with a firm grip. Steve did a double-take at the name.

"Stark? As in… Howard Stark?" Steve reexamined him, noting the similarities. Dark hair, intelligent eyes, slim build… much taller, though. And more... modest? Quiet.

"Yeah, heh, he was my grandfather." The youngest Stark grinned up at him, "And Tony is my dad. But I… I thought Eleanore mentioned me to you yesterday?"

Realization hit Steve, along with memories of their conversation the day before. "… works with his dad's company sometimes… a genius…"

Meanwhile, Darren was still talking, looking at him with a little apprehension. "She said she told you about me, anyway. She asked me to show you around SHIELD until she's done with classes today. I-if you're interested." He smiled sheepishly, clearly uncomfortable.

Steve knew the feeling of discomfort that came with meeting new people. "Of course. Let me throw this away," he gestured to the remains of his lunch, "and we can get started."


	7. Chapter 7

Steve followed Darren Stark, now silent, back up the stairs to the main lobby. Once there, the young man seemed to have no idea where to direct his attention, first looking at the floor, then at the ceiling, then finally and helplessly at Steve.

"So… Where would you like to start?" he asked hesitantly, his arms swinging awkwardly at his sides, shoulders hunched with uncertainty.

Steve had seen these symptoms before, and he'd experienced them many times. "Why don't we start with where you work?" he asked, keeping his voice purposefully light. _Maybe he'll warm up if he talks about something he likes._

"Huh— sure!" Darren's voice gained enthusiasm as he gestured toward the stairs. "It's this way. Elle said you're from the 40's. Did you see any of my grandfather's inventions?"

"Yeah," Steve said as they started climbing the stairs. "I worked with him, you know. He came up with my shield and armor and pretty much everything we used to fight Hydra."

"Really?" Darren turned and started up a second flight of stairs. "My dad never talked much about him. Not a good relationship there."

Steve had no idea how to answer that, so they climbed in silence for a moment.

"So your shield is vibranium?" Darren asked, turning to look at Steve. "I've never seen it in person."

"Yes, it's supposedly the only sample in existence." Steve paused, remembering Peggy shooting at him. "Do you want to see it sometime?"

"Y-yeah, that would be awesome," Darren said reverently, stopping at a door on the fourth floor. "Here we are. It's the main lab of SHIELD HQ, but there are other labs in other parts of the world. This lab goes up multiple floors, but _this_ floor holds the computer experiments." So saying, he used his access card to open the door.

Steve was ushered into a beeping, buzzing, whirring world where most of the workers were dressed casually and seated at computers, staring intently at them. They didn't even look up when Darren and Steve entered, which was an interesting change from the attention Steve usually attracted. _Then again, if you work with a Stark, everyone else might seem less impressive._ There appeared to be a central hub in the middle of the room with around fifty computers, about half of which were filled with men and women tapping away at the keys. At first, Steve thought that this floor must have solid walls instead of the customary windows that the rest of the building sported. Then he noticed that this space was much smaller than an entire floor of the building should be, and that there were handles set into the walls, apparently attached to invisible doors. The walls themselves were a light gray, and the ceiling was tiled the same color, interspersed with hidden lights to give the room a dim glow. The floor was made of smooth white tile, and it was crisscrossed with flat cords whose sources and endings were mostly a mystery.

"So, this is the main area where we monitor SHIELD's data, among other things." Darren said, standing next to Steve and surveying the room along with him. "Here," he guided Steve around the hub and up to one of the handles on the western wall. "This is where I do my work." He slid his access card and the door beeped and opened, revealing a darkened room.

Steve followed him inside as he turned on the lights, revealing a large workspace with the customary window walls. In the middle of the room were several work benches arranged in a sort of open square, like a small parking space. This contained a rolling chair, and the workbenches themselves were littered with mechanical parts, papers, pencils, and shiny things Steve couldn't place. Darren turned from the switches and took in his desk, seeming to realize what a mess everything was in all at once.

He shook his head and grinned sheepishly at Steve. "Did Elle tell you I was messy?"

"No," Steve said amicably. "She just said you're a genius, and that you're nice most of the time. And you've already graduated college."

"'Most of the time'?" Darren chuckled, moving to clear things from his desk. "Well, I could say the same for her. And yeah, I got my first two degrees when I was sixteen. I'm twenty-one now."

Steve looked the young man over, surprised at how young he still looked. The clock on the wall told him they had around an hour to wait before Eleanore would be there. "So how long have you two been going together?" _Talking about your girl is still good, right?_

"Oh, about three years now." Darren shrugged, still cleaning with his back to Steve. He seemed willing to answer questions, but he didn't volunteer information. _Or maybe I need to ask different questions._

"So what are you working on now?" he asked, taking in the sundry parts that Darren was leaving on the workbench.

"In my spare time, I'm building a small computer, like a Raspberry Pie," _What?_ "for emulating game engines from the past. At least, that's what these parts are for." Darren gestured to the rightmost bench, which he hadn't touched, and on which tiny green and gold and silver parts were arranged.

"You… bake in here? With games?" Steve was already at a loss. He knew it was going to be a question-filled discussion. He just hoped this youngest Stark would be patient.

"What? No, I… Oh, the RasPi." Darren picked up a small, flat, green piece of plastic that had copper and wires sticking out of it. "This is a Raspberry Pi— like three point one four one five nine two six... It's the name of a small computer. This thing can't do much by today's standards, but it's useful for writing little games and pieces of software for beginner, and to see how they'll look on an older machine. I tinker around with it in my spare time. Here." He held the plastic thing out to Steve, who accepted it gingerly. _What if I break this?_

"I use this old DVD player as a display screen for it," Darren brought a rectangle over that was silver, smaller, and thicker than Eleanore's laptop had been. When he neared Steve, he flipped it open revealing a screen, but only a few buttons.

"But this isn't the best part of my lab here," Darren left Steve with the small green computer in his hand, and moved over to a large box that was generating a good deal of murmuring, buzzing noises. Darren reached it and turned to face Steve, pride written all over his face. _I guess all he needed was to talk about what he knows._

"This is my 3D printer. This one works with metal, but my other one works with plastic. Want to see what it made last night?" He reminded Steve of a young child showing their pet dog to a stranger.

"Sure," Steve was in way over his head, and he was feeling it. He looked at the clock. _Forty-five minutes_ , then Eleanore might explain some of this. Darren Stark seemed like a kind person, but one who was used to talking to people who knew what he was saying, which Steve did not. He stood awkwardly, still cradling the small green piece of computer in his hands, sorting through everything the young genius was saying and saving questions for later.

Darren leaned over and opened a hatch at the top of the box, and the humming and whirring ceased. He stuck his head and shoulders into the machine, and Steve held the lid up so it wouldn't slam back on him.

"Thanks," Darren said, righting himself with what looked like a helmet in his hands. It was not unlike a knight's helm from the heroic tales Steve had read, but it was definitely feminine. It completely covered the face, but it looked as though the face shield folded up when needed. The visor was not filled in, and this gave it an eerie look. It was made of lusterless dark-silver metal with black and violet trimmings. "This is armor I made for Elle. I'm going to take it home and have my dad's machines put in the power source and the mechanisms. "When it's powered up, it can fold into a backpack, so she can carry stuff in it. Although it will drop the stuff she'd carrying when she activates it, so I'd better warn her about that. What do you think?"

Steve looked at the helmet, then at Darren, who was casting his gaze between Steve and the helmet. "I think she'll like it." Steve said, trying to be noncommittal. Talking to couples could be awkward. They got offended so easily. He'd once accidentally angered one of Bucky's girlfriends just by remarking that her brother was good at sports. Bucky had dumped her when she refused to forgive Steve. "Er… is purple her favorite color?" _Nice, Steve. Very smooth._

"Yeah, it is. This shade especially." Darren looked fondly at the helmet, then put it back into the box machine. "Don't tell her about it yet, please. I want to surprise her tomorrow when it's done."

"Sure thing," Steve hoped nothing would slip out. _Fifteen minutes…_

"So do you have a computer yet?" Darren was focusing on Steve again, and asking _him_ questions.

"Um, does this count?" Steve pulled his phone from his jeans pocket, handing it to Darren.

He laughed, and Steve felt no malice in it, "If you want to get technical, I suppose it does. It can do more than my RasPi, at least. Here." Darren pulled up the contacts list (which Steve _did_ know how to use, after spending some time that morning tinkering around with it) and put his name and number inside. "If you ever need tech advice, call me. Eleanore's good for beginner things, too, but if you want something fixed, I'm your guy."

"Thanks," Steve was feeling less and less awkward around this boy. "You must never have met someone who knows so little about your technology."

Darren made a face, raising his eyebrows and quirking his mouth in derision. "You'd be surprised at how many of my dad's fellow CEO's don't know how to work their own computers except to email. It's crazy. At least you _want_ to learn, instead of calling me all the time to do stuff."

Steve didn't know how to reply, and Darren seemed to realize that as he walked back toward the work bench. "So—uh… do you know about the Internet yet?"

"No," Steve said assuredly. _So_ _at least I know what I_ don't _know._

"Okay, let's start there." Darren looked away from Steve and toward the ceiling, collecting his thoughts. "The Internet began as a way to share military data in the early 1960's, and it grew more and more useful. The government ran cables all over the country, and other developed nations did the same until basically every major city had a connection. Then they released it to the public in the 1970's, but almost no one used it until ten years later because normal people didn't have computers. Now the Internet has basically every bit of information known to man, and some that most people don't know, like government secrets and—"

"And conspiracy theories," Eleanore's voice came from the doorway, where she stood with her hand on the knob and Jet at her side. She smiled at Steve, then her face lit up when she saw Darren. He moved towards her, and she moved to him, and they met so naturally in the middle of the room that Steve wondered if he should look away. _Could Peggy and I have had that?_ His heart ached a little stronger.

They only hugged, however, and he heard each whisper greetings to the other before Eleanore's attention was back on Steve.

"Hey," she greeted him. "I have your move-in papers already. Mrs. Hirsch apparently likes you, so whenever you're ready you can stop by and get the keys."

"Oh, thanks." Steve said, just as Darren asked, "He's moving in with you?"

"No problem, and no," Eleanore answered them in turn. "Steve took 216A across the hall, the one that crabby couple lived in."

"Oh," said Darren. "Well, congratulations," this to Steve, with a grin. "Hey, puppy," to Jet, who sidled up for an ear rub.

"Thanks," Steve said again, trying to detect any note of jealousy in the young man's demeanor. He found none, though he suspected things would have been different if he'd actually moved in with Eleanore.

"Babe, I told you to show him around the building, not dazzle him with your toys." Eleanore seemed to be teasing, her eyes crinkling at the corners even as her expression remained serious. She walked over to Steve and held out her hand, into which he carefully placed the RasPi machine.

"Yeah, but my toys are so much more interesting than the building." Darren teased back, wrapping his arms around Eleanore again and kissing her on the forehead. Steve wondered if all couples displayed affection this much.

"I'll take it from here, then," Eleanore backed out of Darren's embrace, handing him the tiny computer. "C'mon Steve! Let's get your I.D. card and badge-whatever, and then we can go get your keys! My classes are canceled tomorrow, so we can go furniture shopping if you want. I know this flea market that's open every day of the week, and maybe we can find some old-fashioned things to make it feel homey. We can move your stuff in, too, and you'll have to get a bed, and…"

Steve followed her out of the room, listening to her happy chatter. This much, at least, he could understand.


	8. Chapter 8

Steve went for a run early the next morning in a hazy drizzle that soaked through his clothes in minutes and left him almost chilled in the end. The sun, which was usually just rising as he finished his workout, failed to make an appearance, and the world only turned a brighter gray as it rose over the horizon. He showered quickly, then stuffed his dirty workout clothes into a plastic bag before he packed them away with his other things. He checked and rechecked the dresser, bathroom, and even the small kitchenette to make sure he wouldn't leave anything behind, and then he sat at his desk to wait, taking out a spare piece of paper and a pencil that had come with the room.

He let his thoughts wander as he marked the page, making a rough outline before filling in details. Rain began to patter against the window lightly, and the light from the outside was dim and dreary. Steve had never minded rain, but he felt that there could have been a more promising start to the day.

His phone rang just as he was putting the finishing touches on a sketch of the old motorcycle he rode during the war.

"Hello," he answered with the appropriate greeting.

"Hi Steve. I'm here if you want to let me in," Eleanore's voice sounded bright against the background of gloom Steve was seeing. He could hear raindrops pattering in the background of her side of the call, too.

"I'll be right out. Signing— er. See you in a minute." He heard her say, "Okay" as he hung ended the call, putting the phone back into his pocket as he stood. Eleanore was picking him up to take his things to the new apartment. Steve was grateful for the fact that they'd already parked his motorcycle there the night before, and he'd taken a cab back to SHIELD's barracks. The rain would have made riding in the open air miserable.

He left the drawing and the pencil on the desk and picked up his duffel bag, which held all of his current worldly possessions. He walked quickly down the stars at the end of the hall and handed his key to the security guard posted at the front reception desk. He turned to the set of outside doors, and paused when he saw Eleanore waiting for him under a red umbrella. She wore a black and white trench coach with a curving pattern and a gold belt buckle, along with blue jeans tucked into a pair of gray boots.

Steve quickly exited the building. "I didn't know you were waiting," he said as he met Eleanore, who flashed him a bright smile and held the umbrella over his head as well.

"I thought you might like some help carrying your stuff," she replied. She allowed Steve to take the umbrella from her, and together they walked to the car.

"This is all I have," Steve lifted the bag in his non-umbrella-holding hand with a slight shrug. "Not much to carry."

"No, I guess I should have asked." Eleanore opened her car door and got in as Steve held the umbrella over her. The dog sat in the back seat, observing them both. "Thanks, I'll open the trunk for your bag." Steve nodded and walked back to stow his duffel away before he got into the front seat of the car.

"I think we planned this day very well," Eleanore commented as she pulled out of the parking lot. "And since you don't have a lot of things, would you like to drop your stuff off at the apartment or go straight to shopping?"

"Shopping is fine," Steve replied. He and Eleanore had eaten together again the night before, and afterward they had walked slowly through Steve's empty apartment, talking about what furniture should go where. Steve had wanted to keep it simple, just a bedroom set, a couch, and a desk. They'd agreed on the placement of all of these things, and Eleanore suggested that Steve could stay with her until it was all delivered. He'd agreed, eager to get out from under SHIELD's watchful eye.

"Okay, well I think we'll head out to a shopping center where they'll have most of the things we need." Eleanore carefully maneuvered onto the interstate that led southwest out of D.C. itself.

"Like a department store?" Steve asked, recalling the newfangled stores from the 40's.

"Yeah, kind of like that," replied. "Only there's a lot of department stores and other stores in one giant building. There's a couple furniture stores too, and just places to shop around for everything."

"Alright," was Steve's only reply. He had not been shopping since he'd awakened, instead going out for meals and using the standard clothing SHIELD had provided for him. Today he wore what he'd learned was called a T-shirt under his leather jacket, along with black cargo pants and a pair of running shoes.

"So…" Eleanore said after they'd ridden ten minutes in comfortable silence. "I know this might be weird to ask, but do you want to shop for clothes today as well?"

"That would be good," Steve said, wondering how long they'd be in stores. At least it was only for one day.

"And, um, you haven't been shopping before this?" Eleanore seemed a little nervous and Steve felt confusion.

"No, not since I woke up. Why?" He turned to face her, but she kept her eyes on the road.

"It's just… the price of everything is crazy now, compared to the 1940's. I didn't want you to be shocked. Oh," she looked at him for a moment before carefully reaching behind her seat for her purse. "They gave me a card for you, with a furnishing allowance."

"Furnishing allowance?" Steve asked, taking the small bag as she handed it to him.

"Yeah, it's a card with money on it. We pay for things electronically now, a lot." Eleanore merged into the rightmost lane, "It works like the access cards, you know? People get a unique card, which is linked to their bank account, and they swipe it at the register to pay for things."

"Oh," Steve said. "I've seen that. I wondered about it, but I forgot to ask."

"Yeah, I bet you have a lot of questions," Eleanore's tone was not judgmental, only observational. "Just ask me anything you want, okay? I won't embarrass you, or at least I'll try not to."

"I wasn't worried about that," Steve said. They rode quietly once more, keeping pace with the other automobiles. Rain spotted the windshield, and was periodically swept away by the wipers. Steve felt a peace steal over him, and he wondered if Eleanore was unconsciously projecting her emotions, or if he was just feeling calm.

"Where are you from?" he asked her, in the interest of keeping a conversation going.

"I actually grew up on a farm in Iowa… I was homeschooled until 8th grade, and then I graduated early. My mom had to work a lot, so my grandparents raised me. My dad… wasn't in the picture." She anticipated his next question. "I moved here for college, and my grandparents both died a couple years ago so I haven't been back." She looked a little wistful, but she wasn't telling him a sob story.

"What about your mom?" Steve asked gently.

"She lives here. She actually worked for SHIELD, I think I told you that, and now she's in a home for retired agents. Not because she's old or anything… she has cancer."

"I'm so sorry," Steve mentally kicked himself for bringing this up _now_.

"It's okay, she's doing pretty well with treatments. That's where I go during 'personal time' on my schedule— I visit her." Eleanore flashed Steve a quick grin, as if to let him know she was alright. The drove in silence for a while, as Steve digested this new information.

"So have you been to see Peggy yet?"

Steve sputtered, "You mean… her grave?" _There went the calm…_

Eleanore looked at him with her face apparently frozen in shock. After a few seconds, she seemed to remember she was driving, and she pulled off onto an exit.

"Don't tell me… Those ass-cravats at SHIELD… You don't _know_?!" her voice rose in volume, filling the small space of the car with her disbelief. She continued to drive, turning and pointing them back the way they'd come.

" _What_ don't I know?" Steve's apprehension was growing, along with an unreasonable feeling of hope. _Don't fool yourself. If she is… but no. She is dead. She must have died long ago._

"Steve," Eleanore's voice had dropped to the proper volume, and she looked a little scared. "Steve… she's alive. She's in the same place as my mom. I visit her, too."

Steve was silent, letting the news sink in. _People knew? The other agents? Peggy helped start SHIELD; surely they knew her? Knew where she was? Why wouldn't they tell me?_

"Why didn't you tell me?" Steve asked, not bothering to control his voice. Sadness, betrayal, and _rage_ made themselves heard through his every word.

"I thought you knew! I'm so sorry. It was stupid… I assumed they told you, and… I'm really sorry, Steve." Eleanore's hands gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles, her face a mask of irritation, worry, and concern.

Steve processed this, letting his emotions wash over him like waves in an ocean, picking out the thoughts among them like seashells. "Take me there."

"We're on our way."


	9. Chapter 9

"Steve, I have to tell you more things." Eleanore kept her eyes on the rode and her voice carefully neutral.

"Can they wait?" Steve asked. He knew he was being rude, but _why_ had no one told him about Peggy? Even Eleanore, who he'd trusted… _But no,_ he shook his head. _She thought you already knew._

"They cannot," Eleanore was replying, her body language tensing further. "It's about Peggy… She—"

"How long have you known her?" Steve asked harshly, interrupting her.

"I met her when I was around ten years-old, actually. But that's not important because—"

"No, I think I'll decide what's important." Steve was getting angrier the more he spoke. "Because everyone else seems to have pretty damn different ideas of what's important to me and what's not."

"If you'd just let me—"

"What!" the volume of his own voice made Steve, along with everyone in the car, jump slightly. It wasn't his loudest, but it was louder than he usually let himself get, and in the enclosed space of the car it reverberated unpleasantly. He didn't care. "Are there more people alive I knew? Did everyone survive except me? Is SHIELD really run by Agent Hill? Didn't Peggy tell you about me? Didn't you know I'd want to see her again? I _know_ she's ninety-three…" Steve trailed off, realizing just _how_ old Peggy must be. He'd never asked after her, not feeling close enough to anyone at SHIELD to do so. He'd never asked after _any_ of the Commandos, he recalled, because he'd assumed they were all dead. His racing heart went cold as he thought about seeing Peggy after all this time. She'd _lived_. She'd started SHIELD, he knew that much, and he knew she'd probably gotten married and had a great life.

Steve hadn't been paying attention to where they were, so he was startled when they pulled into a parking lot and Eleanore stopped the car. He looked out the window at an abandoned factory, their car the only one in the place. Instead of asking questions, Steve threw open the door and stalked into the rain. He walked to the other side of the lot where a stand of trees grew. He stood just out of reach of their sheltering leaves and looked up at the sky. He was at a loss for what to do, now that the cool air was saturating his lungs and the raindrops were pelting his face. These factors brought back the reality of his situation even more harshly, and Steve knelt to the ground, knees soaking, hands clasped together as though in prayer. He felt warm water join the cold streaming down his cheeks.

Steve heard footsteps approaching, and he quickly wiped his eyes. "I'm fine," he called over his shoulder, sniffing. "I don't get colds anymore."

"I know that," Eleanore said from beside him. Steve felt her kneel and place a hand on his shoulder. She was cold already, her hand barely warmer than the air as she turned Steve to face her. "Here," she said, and pulled him into a hug.

Steve had gone for what seemed a long time without physical contact. Since Bucky had died, the closest he'd been to another person was when he'd kissed Peggy before jumping onto the Red Skull's plane. The shock of Eleanore's embrace coupled with his despair left him frozen once more, uncertain of how to move or what to do. She had her left arm under his right one, and her right over his left, her hand holding the back of his head gently, a bit like his mother used to. She didn't say anything, just holding him as the rain poured over them both.

Gradually, Steve thawed. He let his head hang until his mouth met her shoulder, and relaxed into her arms, pulling his own around her to hold them both upright. Then he just let go, feeling the anger with SHIELD's fuck-ups, his frustration with modern technology, and his sadness for his lost love and friends overwhelm him at last. He _sobbed_ , which was something he hadn't even done in front of people when Bucky died, deep and guttural and raw, feeling them scrape from his heart to his throat. He held Eleanore as close as he dared, still conscious enough to avoid crushing her, and she hugged him as tightly as she could, one hand holding the back of his neck while her thumb moved in slow circles.

He'd always had a purpose— something tying him to the world, something to move toward, something to seek. From just surviving his childhood to becoming a soldier, Steve had developed goals throughout his life. His mother had taught him to keep something in mind for when nothing else seemed to matter, and he'd kept her words in his memory even after she'd passed away. The death of his _best friend_ had not even affected him this way, instead moving him into a new conviction: that Hydra must be stopped at all costs.

 _Why am I even alive?_ he thought, the question repeating itself in his mind over and over until it became a mantra. _Why, why, why?_ He knew he was outdated, and that there was no real use for him except possibly as a captain in the real army, fighting over oil in the Middle East (he _had_ heard about that). He never wanted to fight corporate battles, though, and he wouldn't be rejoining anytime soon. SHIELD seemed to have plans for him, but what could they do with a washed up and long-surpassed experiment from the 1940's? _I never even stopped all the atrocities of the War. Even then I was just one man against Hydra, Stalin, the Nazis... Now I'm one man out of place in this world._ He didn't even know what to _feel_ because everything around him was too much and not enough at once.

" _Why_?" he whispered aloud, and the word was muffled into Eleanore's coat. He instantly regretted it, and hoped she hadn't heard. _When did I become this weak?_

She replied, even so. "It's okay," she said softly, repeating it. "It's okay… It's okay… It'll be okay."

Steve sighed through his emotions, "How do you _know_ that?" He felt like a child, lost in a too-large world that didn't care about him, and he was uncomfortable and lonely and _afraid_. No one knew Captain America got scared, but Steve did. He felt unworthy of his title, and he didn't want it anymore… He just wanted to go back- he'd do anything... but he couldn't. He stayed as he was instead, and Eleanore hugged him a bit tighter.

"I don't know…" she trailed off. Steve thought she was finished, but then, "I guess because you came back _now_. I know you don't know what's all going on in the world yet, but it's crazy. It's just as screwed up as your time was, if not more, and the government is part of the problem, and people are questioning everything they grew up believing." She scoffed, "It's like the world got turned upside down, or… something. Maybe I'm just growing up." She sighed, resting her cheek on Steve's shoulder for a moment before lifting her head again. "But you know, you're here at _this_ time _._ And even with all the terrible things going on, you're giving people hope just like you did in the War. I know it's too much to put on your shoulders, and I _know_ that you've sacrificed more than enough for everyone. But I believe everything happens for a reason. Even if you feel like there's no reason or meaning, it will all work out in the end." She fell silent, and the rain filled up the space her words had occupied.

Steve didn't say anything, instead pondering and processing what she'd just said. They stayed knelt together for a long while, Steve's sniffing and the raindrops as the only sound around them.


	10. Chapter 10

Finally, slowly, Steve calmed and quieted. His eyes felt swollen, and he knew he needed a handkerchief, not just for his nose but for Eleanore's coat as well. He pulled back, noting some slobber and snot still on her shoulder, wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve and reaching for his pocket hankie.

"Sorry," he said, trying to wipe the mess from her shoulder before she got a good look at it. His voice sounded softer and huskier than normal.

"Don't worry about it," she gently removed Steve's hand from her shoulder. "I have Kleenex and wipes in the car, and I can use water like this." So saying, she swept her hand through the air , gathering drops as they fell and using them as a liquid scraper to clean her coat.

Steve blew his nose heartily, sniffing a couple of times before he put the handkerchief away. He felt embarrassed at this point, having never displayed so… much to anyone in his life. Still, he didn't think Eleanore was uncomfortable. In fact, she looked nothing except concerned and preoccupied as she stood, brushing water from her pants and leaving them perfectly dry.

"I'll dry you off when we get to the car," she said, offering Steve her hand and a small grin. He tried not to put too much weight on her as she pulled him to his feet.

"Thanks," he said as they turned back to the vehicle.

"It's no problem," Eleanore said, her eyes cast downward to keep the rain off her face.

Steve looked around at the place she'd brought them to, finally taking it in. It was off the road, in the middle of a small wooded area. The abandoned building looked like it used to be a store. Other than that, it looked like there wasn't another human being for at least a mile.

"You know," Steve began, "this isn't a good place to bring emotionally compromised super soldiers."

Eleanore actually laughed, short and soft, "I know. I thought of that when I saw it, but I also thought you needed some fresh air and space."

"I did," Steve was quiet as he walked around to get her door. When he opened his, she whisked the water off of him and out her own window.

They got back on the interstate, heading back into DC. The city enclosed them once more, and Steve felt the buildings as a protective barrier— he'd grown up in Brooklyn after all.

Eleanore was quiet, and Steve thought she looked stressed as they neared familiar territory. He wanted to break the tension, but he wasn't completely sure it was there in the first place. He decided to go with his gut, though, and let out a sigh.

"I want to apologize for my behavior earlier, ma'am." He went formal, hoping to pull her out of her shell.

"I'm not angry," she said, glancing over at him. "I know you were venting. I do that, too, only Darren and Jet hear me yell and it usually happens around once per month." Her demeanor still seemed distant as she focused on the road.

"Still," Steve cleared his throat, "I hope you can forgive me, ma'am. I'll try to make it up to you."

"Oh, yeah, I already forgave." She said absently, and looked at him worriedly out of the corner of her eyes. _Great, I scared off the only friend I have in this time._ "Do you mind if we go somewhere for lunch? I'm really hungry and I skipped breakfast."

"Oh," Steve had not expected this. "Sure, it sounds swell." Truthfully, he was willing to delay seeing Peggy in favor of cleaning himself up and splashing some water on his face. He was also feeling hungry.

"Great," Eleanore's bearing relaxed once more. "I just didn't want to detain you from seeing Peggy after all this time."

"Gives me a chance to clean up," Steve told her as she pulled off the interstate and into a small diner-type joint called Denny's. Steve stepped out and went around to get her door, holding the umbrella over both of them.

"The food is pretty traditional here," Eleanore explained as they walked under the umbrella together toward the entrance. "You should find some old favorites."

"I'm never picky about food," Steve said, holding the door open for her, thankful when she waited for him to open the second one as well. They were shown to a booth near a window by a young waiter who informed them that Katelyn would be their server. Steve sat facing the door, window to his left, and Eleanore was seated across from him.

Steve looked at the menu, noting that they served breakfast all day. He looked at Eleanore, who had already closed her menu and was staring out the window to her right.

"What are you having?" he asked, hoping to draw her back into conversation.

"I think the house salad with grilled chicken sounds good. How about you?" She turned to him and leaned her elbows on the table.

"The biscuits and gravy," Steve replied. "Manners have changed, too, huh?" he asked, the thought springing to his head and out his mouth before he'd monitored it. _That was rude_ his mother's voice rang through his mind.

"Oh!" Eleanore put her arms at her sides. "Yeah, I guess the have, sorry."

"Don't be," Steve regretted saying anything. "I didn't mean… nevermind. What else is different now?" _At least if I know I can avoid looking out of place sometimes._

"Nothing is really changed," Eleanore said, her eyes staring past Steve in thought. "I guess the door holding thing doesn't happen as often as it used to. And sometimes women hold the door for other people, just to be nice."

"You've been waiting for me to get your door all day," Steve protested.

"Yeah, because I thought you might. And Darren does the same thing most of the time. It's nice," she smiled. "It makes me feel like a lady."

"You… are?" Steve was confused.

"Yeah, but not like a _lady_ lady, you know?" she paused and studied his face. "Sorry, I'm not explaining this well. See, I grew up with movies about 'old-fashioned' ladies, and they were from your time. They always had skirts or dresses on, and they were polite, and they had men open doors for them." Eleanore stopped, meeting Steve's eyes. "That's normal for you, and don't lose it. Don't try to fit in, okay?" she was suddenly earnest.

"Um, sure." Steve was now quite confused, but at that moment a young, attractive, blonde woman with blue eyes and a name tag that read _Caitlyn_ approached their booth. She looked shorter than Eleanore was by a couple of inches, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and her black collared shirt and khaki pants clung to her small frame.

"How are you today?" she asked brightly. Her eyes darted from Steve to Eleanore, then back to Steve. She gave him a bigger smile. "My name is Caitlyn and I'll be your server. Are you and your girlfriend ready to order?"

Steve was flustered, but managed, "Ah, we're just friends."

Caitlyn's expression changed from passively happy to interested in an instant. "Oh, my bad." She fluttered her eyelashes, and Steve looked down at his hands. He was used to women flirting with him by now. Caitlyn looked younger than Eleanore was, and she didn't look like his type. In fact, she reminded him unpleasantly of the pushy woman who'd kissed him before Peggy had found them and consequently shot at him. He inwardly grimaced at the memory. He'd never been good at talking to dames, and over the years he'd become more uncomfortable with it.

"I'll have water and the house salad with grilled chicken and ranch dressing," Eleanore spoke up forcibly from across the table, drawing Caitlyn's attention. Steve mentally vowed to pay for her lunch, no matter her protests.

Caitlyn's smile faded as she glanced at Eleanore. "Uh-huh." She scribbled something in her notebook with a disinterested expression before turning back to Steve with another bright grin.

"I'll have the biscuits and gravy, please." Steve glanced at the menu for drink, then added, "And a water as well." He didn't smile back, just making polite eye contact while he ordered before pointedly turning his attention back to Eleanore.

Caitlyn glanced at both of them again as she gathered their menus, her eyes slightly narrowed. "Let me know if you need anything else." And with a parting smile at Steve, she left.

"Were women like that when you came from?" Eleanore asked, watching Caitlyn leave.

Steve sighed, "Yes, they were. Sometimes they were more…" he gestured ineffectively.

"Demanding?" Eleanore laughed, and Steve felt a small grin creep across his face. It was short-lived, however, as he remembered what had happened.

"What did you need to tell me before?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, um…" Eleanore glanced around. They were surrounded by other patrons at other tables as the lunch rush began. "Are you sure you want to hear about it now?"

"If you'll tell me," Steve really regretted his behavior, but his anger most of all. She'd said she forgave him, though, so that was something.

"Well, it's just… never mind," she shook her head and began speaking in a rush, looking at Steve soberly as she gauged his reaction. "Peggy is old now, you know, and even though she's aged really well, she has been having problems these past few years. She has gotten weaker, and she's having memory problems more and more frequently. Like, at first it just looked like simple dementia, which happens to a lot of people as they age; they forget things easily and have to be reminded. But then it got worse, and the doctors tested her for Alzheimer's and it was positive." She took a breath but continued as soon as she could, "Meaning she does have the disease. It was around back in your time, but it hadn't been widely known. The cause is still uncertain, although they think genetics has something to do with it. Peggy has the earliest stages of the disease, which means her short-term memory is pretty bad. Sometimes I go visit her and she forgets I was there as soon as I walk out of the room." Eleanore sighed, "I just want you to be aware of that before you see her. She'll remember who you are, definitely, but she will probably act much different from the Peggy you remember."

Steve sat back in his seat as Eleanore began talking because he wanted to seem as calm and collected as possible. She'd spoken quickly, and the whole explanation had only taken a moment, so he silently absorbed and processed the information even after she'd finished speaking. He stared at his hands folded neatly in his lap as he thought about the life Peggy must have lived, and the memories she was losing.

Caitlyn arrived with their waters, but Eleanore said their thank-yous and she rushed off to attend to the many other customers who were now filling almost every table.

"Did she get married?" The question surprised him as it left his lips, and he glanced at Eleanore to see if she found him odd. _That's what you want to know? Really?_

"Yeah, she did." Eleanore didn't appear shocked at all. Steve noticed that she was most animated when she was sharing information with him. Her eyes lit up, she sat up straighter, leaning toward him more, and she put on a friendly smile. "A few years after the war was over, she married a guy who you saved when you went to rescue the 107th, Calvin Bailey. She tells that story all the time. They had two kids, Charlotte and Steven— they named him after you." She grinned a little before settling back and taking a long drink of her water.

Once again, Steve remained quiet as he thought about that life. The life he'd missed out on. Peggy had started SHIELD, raised a family, and stopped Hydra all while he lay in the ice presumed dead. He didn't know what he felt. _Calm_ was what first came to mind. His emotional outburst from before had pretty much wiped him clean.

"I think she named SHIELD after you, too," Eleanore spoke into the silence, breaking Steve out of his reverie.

"It's probably a coincidence," he shrugged. "I bet other people had a say in the name."

"I don't know," Eleanore smiled conspiratorially. "Peggy was—is a force of nature. Really, what she wanted done was eventually what everyone else wanted done. At least that's what my mom says. She worked with Peggy for a few years before she finally retired. Which was only…" Eleanore looked at the ceiling as though concentrating on the tiles, "four years ago. The doctors think that that's why her brain is in such good shape— because she kept it busy."

"When did your mom stop working, then?" Steve wondered, hoping the question wasn't too personal.

"About a year ago, although she reverted to a part-time consultant a year before that. She told me she was sick, but she didn't let on how bad it was until she thought she had to."

"I'm sorry," Steve said again, actually feeling it. "She sounds like a wonderful lady."

"She is," Eleanore agreed eagerly. "If I turn out half as great as my mom, I'll be satisfied. She and Peggy are good friends now. Mom visits her a couple times each day and they talk and laugh and watch TV shows together. You can meet her today too, if you want. Her name is Lydia."

"I'd like that," Steve replied.

Just then their meals arrived, carried by a flustered-looking Caitlyn. "Here's one biscuits and gravy, and one house salad with grilled chicken and ranch," she said, setting the plates down in front of them.

"Thanks," Steve took the time to half-grin at her, and she smiled back sunnily before sauntering off.

They ate in quiet, Steve taking the time to savor the memory of meals like this along with the flavor of his food. Eleanore's salad crunched as she cut the larger pieces of lettuce with a fork before spearing them and carrying them to her mouth. Steve wondered if that would be enough to fill her stomach, but she looked content and finished all of her meal at a leisurely pace.

When Caitlyn carried their bill over, Steve held out his hand for it, not giving Eleanore the chance to take it herself. She just shrugged and allowed him to place the cash in the envelope as she finished her water.

"I'll get the tip then," she said, pulling her purse up from where it sat beside her.

"I've got that too," Steve said, placing money on the table. He'd calculated for a fifteen percent tip, which seemed to be appropriate. He was still a little shocked every time he saw the price of anything now, especially food, but he knew he had more than enough in back pay and interest to cover a simple lunch at a diner. Eleanore looked like she might protest, but then she let it go, which Steve was thankful for.

They got hold of all their things and made their way through the crowded restaurant. Most people only gave them a passing glance if they looked at them at all, but Steve noticed an important-looking man in a suit stare at them. Steve tensed as they passed close to the man's table, and he stood too follow them out. Steve placed himself between the man and Eleanore, hoping it was just someone from SHIELD saying hello, but not betting on it.

"What are you doing? What's wrong?" Eleanore asked, turning back to look at Steve as they neared the main entrance.

"Captain Rogers?" the man's unfamiliar voice rumbled behind them, and Steve turned to face him. He was older with white hair and a portly physique that spoke of more relaxed dinners than time spent working. His brown eyes traveled up and down Steve's body in a familiar way that made him uncomfortable.

"Sir," Steve replied quietly, "do I know you?" He felt Eleanore close behind him as she peered around his left side.

"Oh, no," the man laughed loudly, bringing the attention of some of the patrons. "I'm Senator Richard Teague. Honored to meet you, soldier." He held out his hand.

Steve shook it, fighting the urge to roll his eyes, "The honor is mine, sir." _Politicians haven't changed, I see._

"Senator Teague?" Eleanore stepped out from behind Steve, eyeing the man in front of them with something like disdain.

"Now who's this lovely lady?" Teague asked, holding his hand out again.

Eleanore looked at it a moment before gingerly placing her hand in his and letting him shake it. "My name is Eleanore, and Captain Rogers and I have somewhere to be." _Now that was blunt,_ Steve thought. Eleanore looked colder and more professional than he'd ever seen her. Her expression verged on bored anger, and her posture was rigid and tense.

"Well, I'm sure the Captain's schedule is full little lady," the Senator smiled almost condescendingly, seemingly unfazed by Eleanore's manners, "But you wouldn't want to prevent him from making a friend, would you?"

"What are you doing here anyway?" Eleanore asked. "Don't you usually frequent more upscale and/or risque places?" Steve just stared at her. _She obviously does not like this man._ He had to admire her ease with veiled insults, though.

"I don't know what you've heard, but I'm a man of the people." Teague made the last part of the sentence ring out across the entire restaurant, drawing glances and then stares from the other patrons. "I'm not spending their tax dollars on some expensive place when this will do just fine. Now, Captain Rogers," the man lowered his voice slightly, but people were still staring, some snapping pictures on their handheld phones. "Would you and your captivating companion join me at my table?"

"Thanks," Steve said politely, "but we do have somewhere to be. It was nice to meet you, sir." He saluted quickly and turned to lead Eleanore out of the restaurant.

"What was that about?" Steve asked as he got into the car. The rain was still pouring down, and the dog had seemingly gone to sleep in the back seat.

"I really hate politicians, and especially that guy," Eleanore replied tightly as she started the car and backed out of the parking spot.

"Yeah, but _that_ was…" Steve fished for the word, "really cold."

"Well, my mom worked with him a few years back," Eleanore said quietly. "And he tried to get her to sleep with him, and then tried a little harder than he should have…" she steered the car into the lunchtime traffic. "She ended up spraining his shoulder."

"Really?" Steve asked, not disbelieving but surprised. "Good for her." He thought back to the man's patronizing attitude toward Eleanore and let the feelings of dislike take over for a moment.

"Yeah," Eleanore replied. "And also, he wanted to use you for a publicity stunt within a publicity stunt."

"Man of the people," Steve recalled, thinking of the people holding their phones up for pictures of him and the Senator.

"Yep. But enough about him," Eleanore asserted. "We're almost to the home. Are you ready?"

Steve reflected for a moment, "Yeah, as ready as I'll ever be."

"Okay," Eleanore said, turning right into a small parking lot in front of a large, blight-looking building. "Let's go."


	11. Chapter 11

Steve began to feel nervous as Eleanore parked the car. Before, he'd felt happy to know Peggy was alive and sad that he'd missed all of her life, but now his anxiety grew with each passing second. His mind was filled with what ifs and he ran through dozens of scenarios in a matter of seconds.

What if the shock is too much for her? What if she doesn't remember me well? What if I disappoint her now? What if she's so different that we have nothing to talk about? What if I mess up? What if I get emotional again? What if… he remembered what Eleanore had said about Peggy's short-term memory, What if she forgets I was even here?

"I'm nervous too," Eleanore said from beside him. Her voice was gentle, and it snapped Steve out of his own mind and forced him to take in the situation at hand, a fact for which he was thankful. I can't plan for everything.

"I'll get your door," was all he replied, though, his voice quiet and abrupt in the stillness of the car. The rain had slowed to a pattering drizzle, and the clouds had lightened above them as Steve held the umbrella over Eleanore as she and, to his surprise, the dog exited the car.

"Jet visits with me, usually," she answered his unspoken question. "Some of the residents like him because they can't have pets here." Steve just nodded, because it made sense and because his mind was racing along different paths. He felt more tense than when he'd awoken to the staged New York, and this was worse because there was no action for Captain America to take. Ever since the serum had taken affect, Steve had been able to take care of many situations through sheer strength or, in some cases, intimidation. Now he felt like the Steve Rogers from before the experiment: helpless, shaken, and bound by circumstance. As they walked toward the building's main entrance, Steve felt his stomach coil tighter and tighter.

"Deep breaths, man," Eleanore spoke up at Steve reached for the door. "You're freaking me out, too." Steve was abruptly reminded of Eleanore's non-human side as he felt a calming force brush over his emotions, leaving them the same, but making Steve aware of her potential influence.

"I thought you avoided other people's emotions," he remarked shortly, hoping she wouldn't try to control his.

"Normally, yeah, and I'm not regulating you. Stronger emotions are really hard to ignore." She spoke in a low tone, not quite a whisper, as they approached a reception desk where a woman was typing on a computer and not paying much attention to the lobby. The room was welcoming and warmly lit, but a set of two bulletproof doors led to the rest of the building. "Hi Marcy, I'm here with another visitor today for Peggy."

The older woman behind the desk brightened as she noticed Eleanore and Jet, and her eyes widened when she observed Steve standing beside them. Her graying hair was pulled back gently from her face, and she looked like a comfortable person, like Steve imagined a grandmother would be. She wasn't thin like many of the SHIELD agents he'd seen, but she wasn't overweight either, her body covered by a pink shirt with elephants dancing across it, like the modern nurses wore.

"They'll be happy to see you Elle," Marcy reached under her desk and Steve heard a button press just before the door to their right swung open. "Captain Rogers, I hope you have a nice visit. It's a good day today, for both of them."

"What did she mean by that?" Steve asked as soon as the secure door closed behind them. They were in a wide, white hallway with a yellow carpeted floor. Nurses walked quickly from room to room, and around the corner at the far end of the hall. Others, who appeared to be residents, moved more sedately, stopping to chat with their friends. Doors colored a soft gray lined each side of the hall.

"Some days are better than others for my mom, and for Peggy." Eleanore murmured, smiling greetings at some of the residents who waved at her. They passed several people in the hall, and Jet loped ahead to where a group of men and women in wheelchairs turned to greet him with bright smiles and quiet exclamations. Steve looked among them, but he couldn't find anyone with a resemblance to Peggy. Will I even recognize her?

"Hi everyone," Eleanore walked up to Jet's side, and the group seemed to naturally expand to let her enter. Steve stood a little back, not wanting to intrude. She stopped once she was in the circle, and the old man to her right reached out to fluff Jet's ears. "This is my friend Steve," she gestured at him, and several eyes narrowed as they examined him. "Steve, this is Luther, Mary, David, and Tom."

"I thought you were with that skinny boy," said an old man with white hair and a gravelly voice. "With the curly hair."

"She is, Luther," the woman, Mary, next to him spoke up. She had salt-and-pepper hair and appeared younger than the man who'd spoken first by a good ten years. "Those two are going to get married." She gave Steve a look that clearly challenged him to argue. He stayed silent, adopting his most respectful expression. He still felt incredibly anxious and tense, but paying respect to the elderly was important. I'm older than all of them.

"Easy," Eleanore straightened and put her hands up in a placating gesture. "Steve's not here to steal me away. We just want to visit Peggy and my mom. Do you know where they are?"

"Last I saw, they were in Lydia's room watching that damn British show." David said, sitting back in his chair with a sigh, no malice in his voice. He had almost no hair on his head, but he sported a snowy beard that fell to his chest. He wore a plaid shirt and jeans with black leather shoes.

"Thanks," Eleanore appeared unfazed by the cursing, but Steve cleared his throat. His mother had taught him never to curse, especially in front of a lady.

Before he could speak up, though, Eleanore was walking down the hall, and Steve was following her.

"Don't mind David," she spoke low to avoid others overhearing. "He just normally talks that way."

Steve considered this for a moment, "It's rude."

"Yeah, but he doesn't think of it as rude. It's just how he is." Eleanore stopped in front of a gray door, like all the others in the hallway. She looked at Steve carefully, and he thought he could tell she was "reading" him. "Do you want to take a second?" Her eyes swept up and down his body, resting on his hands.

Steve looked down at them as well, realizing they were clenched into tight fists. He noticed his shoulders rising toward his ears, and his stomach felt like it was tied into knots. Steve had never felt this tense even before a battle.

"Just take deep breaths and wait out here for a second, okay?" Eleanore gave him a small, reassuring smile. "I'm going to go in and kind of… prepare them. You can listen out here. Remember to breath." And before Steve replied, she opened the door into his face so Steve was hidden behind it, and stepped quickly into the room. She left the door ajar and Steve stepped as close as he dared.

Steve heard silence for a moment, before a woman's voice rang out, "Hey babe, I didn't know you were visiting this afternoon!" She sounded almost exactly like Eleanore, and much too young to be Peggy.

"Hi Mom," Eleanore's voice took on a happy tone. "Hi Peggy. I was in the area, and I also have an assignment from SHIELD I'd like to tell you about."

"Well, what is it?" an voice like cracked velvet, familiar from Steve's recent memories yet distanced by time spoke clearly and softly. Steve strained forward to hear it. His mind worked feverishly, trying to picture what the room looked like. From the sound of it, Eleanore had her back to the door. Her mother sounded as though she was facing Eleanore and the door, and Peggy sounded similar. It was a small room with little echo, and Steve could see muted daylight coming through the door. His heart was racing, and he felt more nervous than ever.

"It's great," Eleanore continued, her voice striking a sharp contrast to Steve's nervousness. "Maria recommended me for it, actually. I'm working with a soldier to get him used to civilian life again, after his tour of duty."

Steve felt the corner of his mouth quirk as he listened to Eleanore's accurate yet misleading description.

"SHIELD doesn't do rehabilitation for soldiers," Peggy's voice contained a thoughtful frown. Steve's mind flashed him memories of planning sessions in which he'd heard that exact tone and seen her expression.

"This is a special case," Eleanore continued, her voice rising with budding excitement. "He's worked with SHIELD before, a long time ago. You've even met him, Peggy."

"I can think of many soldiers I've met," Peggy sounded puzzled, and Steve could picture her trying to work the mystery out. "But none have worked so directly with SHIELD that we would take over their civilian concerns."

"Who is it?" Eleanore's mother spoke again, her voice containing masked concern. "Are you sure it's safe to be around him? If he's just coming back from battle, he could have… issues." Steve heard no unkindness or disgust in her voice, only genuine concern for her daughter.

"I'm sure, Mom. And I can handle myself." Eleanore was affectionately blunt, and Steve heard her move across a small distance to stand nearer to her mother and Peggy. "He's really nice, and he's waiting in the hall if you want to see him."

"Of course we'll meet the young man," Peggy said authoritatively. "Then you and I can decide whether or not he's dangerous, Lydia."

"Good plan," Eleanore's mother— Lydia— replied confidently.

"Yeah, okay, but listen first." Eleanore sounded much more nervous and excited suddenly. Steve felt his chest tighten and he reminded himself to breath and loosen his muscles from their tense knots. "Peggy, I don't want to alarm you, but—"

"Dear, if I've met the man before, I'll remember him." Peggy sounded a little impatient, but still friendly toward Eleanore. "Now go and get him. It's rude to leave guests in the hall."

"Right," Eleanore said, and Steve heard her feet padding to the door. He stepped back a bit as she came around it, almost touching the wall with his back.

"Okay, I didn't do as well at preparing them as I'd hoped. But at least they're both sitting down," Eleanore murmured, too quiet for those in the room to hear. "I don't think there's a good way to introduce you, unless you have one in mind?" She seemed almost hopeful, but Steve couldn't think of anything.

"I think we'd better just go in," he said, his voice much surer than he felt.

Eleanore nodded, glancing around and taking a deep breath, sighing it out. She looked like a child who was about to get scolded. "Let's do this, then."

Steve inclined his head once, and placed his hand on the door to hold it open for her. She turned and walked around it, and he followed her, his heart feeling heavy, while his spirit felt lighter than it had in a long time.


	12. Chapter 12

Steve's first instinct upon entering a room was to gain an impression of its size, decorations, and anything that could be dangerous or interesting. As a soldier, he'd spent years entering areas with potentially important insides, and he'd always done this to remember as much as possible. The formula had improved his memory, and he could note the general location of most things with just a glance. This instance was no different; his eyes roved over everything before finding a resting place. The white tiled floor with several gray rugs and patterned light green-gray wallpaper gave the room a soft atmosphere, and the window, surrounded by yellow curtains, cast shallow light where it could. A television sat on the wall to his left, its screen black, and underneath it rested a small set of shelves, each laden with pictures of Eleanore and people Steve assumed were family friends. A full bed sat on the other side of the room, its bedspread matching the curtains in yellow roses backed in white. Two end tables guarded its head, and Steve saw more picture frames there. The overhead light was on, and it was attached to a black ceiling fan, which was moving slowly. Lastly, an open, white sliding door revealed hanging clothes in a small closet to the bed's right.

The sound level in the room seemed to drop at Steve entered, but that could have instead been the blood rushing in his ears and canceling everything else out. His eyes finally settled on the three women in front of him and the dog lying near the bed. All were staring back at him, but Steve's gaze was drawn to the pale, wrinkled woman in a wheelchair, who wore a red robe and brown slippers. Her hair was white with age, and her eyes had faded to gray, but Steve could see Peggy in every feature. She sat to the left of a woman who looked like an older version of Eleanore, and Eleanore stood between them. Peggy was staring at him, going paler by the moment, an expression of shock fixed firmly on her open mouth, wide eyes, and raised brows.

 _Is she going into shock?_ The thought crossed Steve's mind as Eleanore's hand laid gently on Peggy's right arm.

"Mom, I'd like to introduce you to Captain Steve Rogers." Her voice, though quiet, carried to every corner of the room and bounced off hard edges. "Steve," she said, causing his eyes to glance quickly at her. Her dark hazel gaze held his, and he shifted for the first time since entering the room. "I would like you to meet my mother, Lydia Engman."

Steve stepped forward, holding out his hand. His body seemed to have remembered the polite courtesies, even if his mind was completely elsewhere. "Ma'am," he heard his voice say, "it's a pleasure to meet you."

"It's an honor, Captain Rogers." Lydia Engman stood and shook his hand, and it was then Steve noticed the frailty in her limbs. She wore a simple green t-shirt with jeans, her feet encased by bright pink shoes. Her eyes were the same color as Eleanore's but the shape was slightly different, and she was a couple of inches shorter than her daughter. If Eleanore had been starved for a week and aged thirty years, she would look like this. Lydia's voice and manner were just about the same, though. Soft and strong and familiar, Steve felt like he was talking to a friend.

"And I believe you already know Peggy," Eleanore turned him back to his main focus. Steve saw that Peggy was silently crying, tears working their slow way down her cheeks uninhibited.

"Is it really you?" she asked, reaching out with both hands. "You're alive? You came back!"

Steve was vaguely aware of Eleanore and her mother leaving the room, the dog following the, and the door closing. It all happened in a matter of seconds, and he decided to save his thankfulness for later. His lips turned up in a slight smile, as he took Peggy's hands in his own.

"I couldn't leave my best girl," he said, his own tears held well at bay. "Not when she owes me a dance."

At this, Peggy laughed tearfully and pointed to the chair recently vacated by Lydia Engman. "How is this possible? Howard searched for you for _years_. We thought the ship sank, but when nothing turned up on the ocean floor, we knew the ice must have swallowed you." She paused, clearly waiting for him to explain. Her eyes stayed on his face, never wavering as he shifted and began to speak.

"It was the ice that saved me," he began, and explained what the scientists at SHIELD had told him. How the temperatures froze him so quickly, and the serum worked so well, that he was kept alive for seventy years as the world aged around him. How he was found by a search team as they explored the Arctic, and how he was brought back, still asleep, to America. How he'd awoken and how SHIELD had tried to 'gently transition' him into the modern world.

At this, Peggy laughed aloud, her tears forgotten as his story had progressed. "They always mistook you for all brawn and little brains," she said. "Well, most of the time. When it suited them."

"Hey, it worked to my advantage sometimes," Steve protested, grinning widely. "Remember that barkeep who wanted to overcharge us for the drinks?" They both laughed at the memory, and Steve felt like he had a bit of his life back.

They continued that way for an uncounted time, the gray sky unchanging, the rain and laughter coming and going in shifts. Steve heard from Peggy most of what he'd missed out on. Her struggles after the war, the starting of SHIELD, and her triumphs over Hydra. She told him stories of Howard that made Steve blush and laugh in turns, and he felt only a brush of sadness as he remembered the shorter, louder man's way with women and science. Peggy also told Steve of her husband and children, pulling a pocketbook of photos from the pocket of her dressing gown. Steve noted the man's obvious love for Peggy in every candid image, and her obvious happiness with him and her children, even as she fought Hydra throughout the years. She described memories of time spent with her professional and personal family, and even named Maria Hill as one of her favorite agents and trainees.

"And Lydia and Eleanore are like my own family," Peggy said fondly, showing Steve a photo of all three of them that looked very recent. Eleanore looked a bit younger, Peggy was laughing, and Lydia lacked the careworn appearance she'd had when Steve met her. "They even joke that Eleanore looks like me," Peggy chuckled quietly for a moment. "But she looks completely like her mother, and grandmother before her. Sandy is one of the… well," Peggy frowned and pursed her lips in apparent confusion. "Rather she _was_ one of the bravest women I have ever known." She was quiet, staring at the wall lost in her memories.

"Sandy was Eleanore's grandmother?" Steve asked after a moment.

"Oh, yes." Peggy appeared back to normal, and Steve hid a sigh of relief. "And now little Eleanore has grown up to show you around these modern times."

"Yes," Steve replied. "She must have learned from the best."

"Oh pish," Peggy shook her head, coughing a little. "She's a wonderful girl. Make a friend of her, Steve. She'll not let you down."

"Yes ma'am," was all Steve got out before there was a knock on the door of the room.

"Come in," Peggy called, coughing again quietly.

"Hi, it's us," Eleanore entered, trailed by her mother and the dog. Steve rose from his chair and stood to the side. "Have you two had a good time?"

"Yes, it's been _wonderful_ ," Peggy answered, smiling brightly at Eleanore. "Have we kept you long?"

"Not too long," Lydia spoke up, making her way over to the chair Steve had vacated, sitting with a sigh. "We ate in the cafeteria with Mary and David, then we visited with Marcy, then we watched part of a soccer game with a group in the sitting room."

"Germany won against Spain," Eleanore added, sitting with a _whoosh_ on the bod, one leg tucked underneath her, the other dangling to the floor. Jet sat at her side and eyed Lydia, then Peggy, then Steve with what appeared to be calm appreciation. Steve hadn't seen the dog happy before, and he guessed that having Eleanore reunited with her mother must be like having the whole family back together for a little while.

"So Captain Rogers," Lydia spoke from Steve's side, and he took a step away to turn and look at her and Peggy more clearly. "Eleanore tells me you're moving into the Ryan's old apartment?"

"Yes ma'am," he replied politely. "But please call me Steve."

"Then call me Lydia," she smiled at him, and Steve was hit again with Eleanore's uncanny resemblance to her mother.

He noticed it even more as they conversed together, getting more comfortable as time went on. It came out most when they were emoting. At first glance, they looked as similar as most mothers and daughters, but when one or both of them smiled, laughed, or rolled their eyes, they could have been the same person at different stages of life.

The conversation steered away from history and sports, and Steve found himself hearing embarrassing stories of Eleanore's childhood that had everyone laughing and smiling. Then Peggy asked Eleanore how school was going, and she described people in her class, her professors, and even the material to some degree. Steve was able to keep up with her terms and phrases for the most part, and he enjoyed hearing in-depth discussions of how teaching was taught, and how Eleanore was learning about human communication from every possible angle.

Then they began asking him questions about the war, and Steve told them all the bright tales he could think of. Peggy asked him to tell about his first rescue mission: the 107th in German-occupied territory. Steve glossed over the gory parts, but he related how each member of the company had helped each other make it back to base with pride. They hadn't lost a single man after leaving the base. Eleanore asked how loud planes were in the 40's, and Peggy laughed and mentioned how Steve had yelled his superior rank at her over the sound of rotary blades before parachuting into the darkness. Steve smiled at each memory, and added more stories to the pile, wanting to contribute to the conversation as much as he could. To their credit, Eleanore and her mother appeared to listen to very detail, asking questions without restraint and seeming genuinely excited by the things he told them.

Steve noticed as time passed and conversation flowed that Peggy gradually quieted. She still smiled and seemed interested in the conversation, but she had little to add, and sometimes her coughing took on a serious tone. Eleanore set a glass of water beside her on a small rolling table, and this helped, but Steve could see that Peggy was flagging. He was reluctant to point this out, and even more reluctant to leave, but he knew that the end of this visit was creeping up on them as each second passed.

It came in an unexpected form, however. One moment, Eleanore was describing a person from one of her classes to them, comparing them to Dum Dum Dougan, when Peggy suddenly made a choking sound and fell into a coughing fit. This was different from the others; the coughs were violent, hacking sounds that lasted and built on each other. Steve immediately rushed forward and tried to place the glass of water in Peggy's hand, but it was no use— she was shaking for too much to drink anything.

"Here," Steve felt a hand on his arm, and Eleanore was gently moving him aside and placing herself in front of Peggy instead. She put one hand on the elderly woman's shoulder, and the other hand's fingertips on her collarbone. Eleanore breathed in deeply, and sighed, letting her shoulders drop. Steve saw white light dance across her fingers where they rested near Peggy's throat.

"Steve, get the door please." Lydia was standing, placing herself between her daughter and the open doorway. Steve was closer, just to the side, and it would be difficult to reach the door around him. " _Now_ ," Lydia's voice was urgently quiet, and Steve realized that Eleanore's powers would draw unwelcome attention if they were seen. He quickly and silently shut the door.

Peggy's coughs had died down when he turned back, and she sat with her head bowed while Eleanore murmured reassurances to her.

"That's great. Deep breaths, just like that." Steve hadn't heard Eleanore's voice like this, and he watched as an attitude that was part motherly, part caretaker took over her demeanor. "Good, okay. Can you take a sip of water now? Here you go," Eleanore lifted the cup to Peggy's line of sight, and the older woman lifted her head to take a drink. Her eyes caught Steve, and he gave her a weak smile. She stared, making no move toward the water.

"Peggy?" Lydia asked, just as Eleanore said, "Oh, no."

"Steve?" Peggy's voice broke and tears welled in her eyes.

"Yeah, Peggy. I'm still here." He tried to speak comfortingly. That coughing fit must have hurt.

"You're alive?" Peggy's voice was riddled with incredulity and happiness. Steve's stomach dropped at the sound of it.

"Yeah, Peg." He forced a small grin, walking forward a couple steps. He stopped, not knowing what to do, looking to Eleanore. She motioned for him to come no closer, then turned back to Peggy, putting both hands on her shoulder.

"It's been so long, Steve…" Peggy trailed off, her muscles relaxing and her eyes drifting closed. She let out a soft sigh, and opened bleary eyes to train again on Steve. "I'm so tired now."

"It's OK," Steve said gently. "I'll see you later. I'll still be around. I promise."

Peggy smiled at him, her eyes finally closing completely. She looked so peaceful, like she had no idea what a hole she'd ripped again in Steve's heart. He knew it was the disease that caused this, but he still hurt all the same.

"I'll take her back to her room," Eleanore said quietly, moving behind Peggy and pushing the wheelchair forward.

"I'll get nurses to put her to bed," Lydia said, moving past Steve to open the door, moving into the hallway ahead of her daughter and friend. Steve heard her voice calling a nurse, but he let himself ignore it as Eleanore left the room with Peggy.

 _She tried to warn me,_ he realized, looking out at the rain. Not much else occurred to him, other than the consistent ache in his heart. His mind kept replaying Peggy's coughing fit over and over, trying to pinpoint the moment she forgot about him.

 _What use is it?_ He shook his head, looking at his black shoes and scoffing. _I knew it could happen, and I let myself forget._

"Hey," Eleanore's voice pulled Steve from his looked at her, noted her dark hair, her gold belt buckle, her concerned expression. He took in her appearance; young, healthy, and full of life, if a little tired. Her raincoat was open, revealing a red shirt that was almost long enough to be a tunic. It looked well on her, and reminded Steve of Peggy's red dress from the pub when he'd recruited the Howling Commandos. _She'll end up as old as Peggy, if she's lucky,_ he thought. _But time will hurt her just as much. I'm the one left unchanged as my friends age around me._

"Steve?" Eleanore moved to stand in front of him, her eyes searching his face. The dog walked into the room, her silent shadow. "Mom's sitting with Peggy while they giver her cough medicine. I said your goodbyes. We can come back later, but let's go now, okay?"

Steve jerked his head down once, which was all he felt like managing at the moment. Eleanore nodded back, smiling soft reassurance before retrieving her purse from beside the bed and heading out the door.

Steve turned, took a deep breath, and followed.


	13. Chapter 13

Steve followed Eleanore through the building and into the parking lot in a fragile silence broken only by the opening of doors and the pattering of raindrops. He held the umbrella for her once again, and opened her door at the car, but he was not eager to speak and he appreciated the quiet atmosphere, staring straight ahead or at their feet for most of the trip. His mind was too full, and his heart felt empty. He tried, but he couldn't summon any emotions to fill the void. All he could do was stare out the car windshield at the dripping, dark gray sky and let his thoughts run where they would.

First Steve thought of Peggy as he had known her, young and strong in wartime. He thought about first meeting her before he became Captain America, and how she had seemed to think he was worth something even then. He thought about how she'd stood her ground in front of that speeding car in order to shoot the spy, and how she had done the same each time a man had presumed to think she was a secretary and asked her to fetch them some coffee. Steve remembered the _look_ she'd given those unfortunate, misinformed blighters: disdainful and disgusted, leaving some of them offended and some shaking in their boots. Steve thought about how working with Peggy had been one of the most exhilarating experiences of his life; she could always make a quick comeback, and she saw patterns like no one else. She was as good as the General at predicting where they should strike next, and where Hydra would place their forces.

Then Steve thought about the elderly woman he'd just left. It was surprisingly simple to reconcile the memory of Peggy with her actuality simply because she still held her strong determination and quick sense of humor. And she was still his friend now just as much as she had been back then, only her current illness marring any joy he had about seeing her. Steve thought about the life she must have lived. To be one of the founders of SHIELD and a wife and mother must have been fulfilling and busy— a perfect life for Peggy. Steve felt the depressing pressure on his chest lighten a bit at the thought of Peggy's happiness, even if he never got to be a part of it. He looked out the car window and noticed the clouds breaking far away. It would quit raining soon.

Eleanore pulled the car into the parking lot of their apartment building, and Steve inwardly sighed in relief. He had not felt up to shopping, even if he had to sleep on the floor of his new quarters for lack of furniture, or pay Elle rent to let him stay. He trudged around to open the car door for her and she haltingly exited the vehicle, holding tight to the frame of the car for support. Her shoulders were slumped and she looked pale and shaky, her hands fumbling with her keys and purse in turn as she locked the vehicle, her eyes fixed firmly on the pavement in front of her. The sudden and unexpected change in demeanor pulled Steve a little out of his thoughts, and he felt concern trickle into his racing thoughts.

"What's wrong?" he asked, stepping closer to get a better look, and to shelter her from the weather.

"Hm?" she looked up at him, and her face looked hollow and she tried to smile at him it was was wane and forced. Dark circles nestled under her eyes, and her cheeks seemed to have shrunken in until she more resembled her mother's wasted appearance than the normal healthy young woman Steve was accustomed to.

He gripped her upper arm gently, hoping she wouldn't collapse right then and there. "You look… sick." _Not the most tactful way of putting it, but…_

"Oh, that." She shrugged lightly, not trying to break his hold. "I helped Peggy you know, and that really wore me out. Delayed reaction." She shivered suddenly as a small gust of cool air swept over them. "We can talk about it more inside, okay?"

"Alright," Steve agreed, feeling protectiveness and worry take over. He ushered her and the dog inside, and watched anxiously as she mounted the stairs. Eleanore did fine, only going slower than normal and gripping the railing tightly. Jet and Steve both followed her closely, and they made their way down the hall to the door of Eleanore's apartment. She unlocked the door shakily and Steve followed her inside.

He was met with the scent of a roast cooking and the faint sizzling coming from the counter top confirmed it.

"I love coming home to a cooked meal," Eleanore commented, lifting the lid of a medium-sized white pot set in the middle of the counter. She glanced at her watch, "Not quite ready to eat yet, though. I thought we'd be back later."

Steve looked at his own wristwatch— _four thirty_ — then back to the wavering woman in front of him. "You should sit down," he said, stepping toward her and lifting his arms to guide her to the couch.

"I'm really fine," Eleanore protested, but she let him escort her, and all but collapsed into her seat with a sigh. "Okay, I guess I'm a little tireder than I thought," she replied to Steve's questioning expression.

"No kidding." Steve responded, surveying her critically. Satisfied that she wouldn't be moving any time soon, he went to the kitchen and brought her a glass of water. The dog sat in front of her on the floor like a sentinel.

"Thanks, that's exactly what I need." Eleanore gratefully accepted the beverage and gulped it down quickly. Steve took the empty glass and refilled it, and this time she only sipped it before setting it aside on the ground. A little color came back into her cheeks, and her eyes were brighter.

"Can I get you anything else?" Steve asked. He glanced around the apartment, searching for anything that might help, then back to Eleanore, whose expression had changed from tired to weary amusement. "What?"

She chuckled, "It's just funny to me to have Captain America waiting on me in my apartment. Do you know how many women would sacrifice their…" she waved her hand and looked around for a proper offering, "… hair to be where I am? Or their left arm? Or their right arm, if they're left-handed…" she trailed off, staring into space. "I'm rambling. Sorry. It happens when I'm worn out."

"Can I do anything to help?" Steve asked again, as she seemed to have forgotten his earlier question.

"Actually, yeah. There's some chocolate in that cupboard above the sink. The sugar will give me some energy." Eleanore pointed in the general direction, and Steve followed the gesture to the proper place, bringing back a pink bag of _Ghirardelli Chocolate Squares: Dark Chocolate with Raspberry Filling_.

"Here," Eleanore said as he returned. She scooted over and patted the couch next to her, and Steve sat and handed her the candy. She quickly unwrapped a piece and bit into it, a look of peaceful bliss settling on her face.

"So what happened back there, exactly?" Steve wondered aloud. He didn't want to make her reveal something too personal about her powers, but he figured he should probably know whether she would faint when they were working together.

"Well, normally I don't react like this to healing people," Eleanore sat up and turned toward Steve, leaning back against the arm of the couch. "But _normally_ , I heal cuts and bruises, maybe a broken bone or three. I can do a lot of things like that before I get this way. But healing abrasions and reducing swelling on bronchial scars. On the lungs. That sort of thing takes a lot of energy."

"Is that what Peggy had?" Steve was morbidly curious. _How did she get scars on her lungs?_

"Yeah, a couple years ago she had bronchitis, and then pneumonia, and those combined really damaged her lungs. That's why she coughs sometimes, and why her voice sounds a bit wheezy." Eleanore paused and looked at him for a response, popping another piece of chocolate into her mouth.

"Couldn't you have healed her then?" The instant he said it, he regretted it. Eleanore's face fell slightly, and she looked almost ashamed. She didn't look directly at Steve as she answered, staring over his shoulder at the wall instead.

"I didn't know as much about using my powers then." She shrugged and pursed her lips into a thin line, "I thought I might do more harm than good, and I didn't want to experiment with…" Eleanore looked at the floor and finished in a whisper, "Not with _Peggy_."

Steve felt guilty. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm sure you did all you could."

"Thanks," Eleanore replied quietly, and Steve was wondering how to avoid an awkward silence. "So do you want to learn about online shopping?"

Steve stared for a second, his mind quickly catching up to her train of thought. "I guess I would, if I had any idea what that was."

"Perfect," Eleanore launched herself off the sofa with a burst of energy, then remained standing still, swaying as her face drained of color. Her eyes stared distantly and her mouth hung open as she breathed unevenly.

"Hey," Steve stood and held his arms out in case she fell. "Just sit down and rest."

"No, I'm good. Just having a blood rush," Eleanore dismissed him, shaking her head slowly. "It's fading. I just need to drink more water. And I will when I get back with my laptop."

"Let me get it," Steve protested, but she was already moving into her bedroom so he followed her to make sure she was alright.

"Oh, I suppose I never showed you this room," Eleanore said as she moved to a desk beside a full bed with a purple coverlet. Steve had seen it before, but it had been dark, so he'd only gained an impression. "This is my office-slash-bedroom, where I get a lot of procrastinating and some work done. Note the lovely white walls and purple accents on the bed and windows. Designed by the best seamstress I know: my mom." Eleanore moved to unplug her laptop's cord from under the desk.

Steve took in the rest of the room: wood floor, two windows, strong door, a table-like desk with what looked like a small television beside the laptop, a set of white drawers underneath it, and a large chest of drawers near a sliding door that was open to reveal an orderly closet. He also noticed some acrylic canvas and plain paper watercolor artwork, mostly of flowers and animals with a couple of landscapes mixed in.

"Did she make these too?" he asked, stepping closer for a look at a simple, graceful lily done in watercolors on plain paper.

"No, I did," Eleanore admitted, coming to stand beside him.

"You paint?" Steve asked, remembering his own sketches, now probably lost to time.

"Only a little in my free time," Eleanore said, then she looked at him. "Why, do you?"

"I used to draw— sketch, really." Steve said modestly. "Art school."

"Oh really?" Eleanore shoved the laptop at him and turned quickly back to the drawers under her desk. She rummaged for a moment before pulling out a plain blue notebook and a small case. "Like with charcoals?"

"Well, yes."

"Here, switch me," Eleanore took the computer back from him and placed the notebook and case into his hands. "There's a mostly-blank sketchbook and a beginners set of charcoals and pencils that I haven't used in years. I mean, not that I'm trying to give you my hand-me-downs, but it's something to do in your spare time."

"No, it's great. Thank you," Steve opened the book to find a couple of halfhearted human depictions, a very detailed butterfly with uneven wings, and a hummingbird in flight.

"Don't mind my drawings please, you can rip them out if you want. I like painting better." Eleanore started out the door into the living room. Steve looked at her sketches again and he knew he wouldn't be getting rid of them.

He followed her into the living room, shutting of the light as he went. The blinds were partly open showing a clearing sky, but it was still drizzling in fits and starts.

"So," Eleanore said, plopping into the couch once again and taking a large gulp of her water. "Online shopping."

Steve silently put the notebook on the end table and joined her on the couch where she spent the next couple of hours helping him through a site called _Amazon_ where he got a few home necessities like sheets, a quilt, curtains, a record player with a couple old jazz records, and some of Eleanore's recommended cookware and cutlery. " _Rada knives are amazing_. _Have you ever cooked in a Wok? Do you think you need a crock pot? I think you do."_ He slowly began to enjoy her direct commentary more and more. She often interrupted him and herself as new thoughts occurred to her, but he wasn't offended. Really, it was nice to be around someone who didn't treat him like shattered glass, as many of the people at SHIELD had done for the past week.

After a while, Steve began to navigate the pages on his own with minimal help from Eleanore. She sat back and gave advice on what to buy instead of where to click, and Steve was starting to feel confident with this piece of new technology. He fell into a comfortable pattern of alternately listening and clicking on interesting links.

"Oh crap," Eleanore lunged off the couch and made it to the kitchen before grabbing the wall for support. Steve instantly set the laptop aside and moved to help, but she was already waving him off.

"Same thing as before. No need to worry. I'm just going to get dinner ready." But Steve stood there as she finally shifted to the pot on the counter, which was plugged into the wall and emitting lovely scents of roasting meat and vegetables. She got out two plates, handing one to Steve. "Take as much as you want— I made a lot."

He served himself and got a water glass before he again seated himself on the couch next to Eleanore.

"Want to shop some more?" she asked, grinning at Steve from her dark eyes as though she could read his thoughts. _She kind of can._

"Honestly, I'm good for the day." And he was. Even though he wasn't physically tired at all, he felt emotionally exhausted. He just wanted some time to think.

"How about a movie that we don't have to pay attention to? Then I can do my homework and you can sketch if you want. But I need my computer."

"That sounds great," Steve waited while Eleanore arranged what she called a DVD player and selected a movie called _Mulan_.

"This is a Disney movie from the late 90's," she informed him. "You can watch it closely or not. It's one of my favorites."

Steve nodded, and they both settled on opposite ends of the couch, Eleanore with her laptop and Steve with his dinner in his lap. It was delicious. As the movie began, he was captivated by the unique artwork in the opening credits, and he found himself drawn into the storyline. He smiled at the jokes, and sympathized with Mulan-as-Ping when she had trouble completing the physical challenges presented to her. When the fighting started, Steve was more than interested, as he'd only ever used guns and his shield to get things done and the sword-versus-fan sequence at the end was great. In the end, Steve didn't get any sketching done as he was too busy watching the movie. He didn't mind though, because it helped take his mind off more somber matters.

When the film was finished, Eleanore closed her laptop, on which she had been typing almost incessantly, only glancing up occasionally.

"How did you like it?" she asked.

"It was great," Steve replied. "I can see why you like it."

"Yeah," Eleanore yawned and sighed. "It's nice to see a Disney princess film where the protagonist actually does something other than look pretty." Another yawn.

"Tired?" Steve asked, noting the time. _Only nine-thirty, but she's been worn out since we got back._

"I'm okay to stay up for a while," Eleanore protested, but she yawned again and Steve stood and took her plate to the sink along with his own. "You don't have to clean up after me all the time." Eleanore rose slowly and came to the kitchen where she began putting the roast and its side items into plastic containers and placing them in the refrigerator. The dog followed and sat out of their way, watching.

"You cooked, so I put the dishes in the sink," Steve said amiably. "I didn't wash them."

"Yeah, and I'm not going to until morning." Eleanore stretched and patted Jet on the head. He accepted it, but didn't look like he enjoyed it.

"So you _are_ tired," Steve teased.

"Mind your own business." Eleanore suggested as she pulled a water bottle out of the refrigerator. "I'll show you to your room."

She led Steve to the door on the right side of the living room and opened it, letting out a faint, sweet scent like a mixture of fruit and flowers. She clicked the light on, and Steve saw a full bed with a faded blue coverlet, a dresser with a mirror, a small desk opposite the bed, and a closed closet door. The walls were white, and a few of what Steve assumed to be Eleanore's paintings adorned them in easy-to-see places.

"Smells nice," he commented, bringing his bag in and setting it down on the bed.

"Thanks, I put an air freshener in here when I changed the sheet, which was this morning." Eleanore indicated a small white cone on the dresser. "There are extra blankets in the dresser, and the top three drawers are cleaned out if you want to put your clothes away. Feel free to use the desk, and make sure the blinds are closed when you're getting dressed because it's really easy for people to see in from the street. Do you have a toothbrush?"

"Yeah," Steve was finding it easier to keep up with Eleanore's sudden changes in direction.

"Okay then," she looked at her own watch and back to Steve with an apologetic smile. "I'm going to get ready for bed quick, and then the bathroom and apartment is all yours."

"I'll hit the sack too," Steve replied, following her back into the living room.

"Oh, do you want the bathroom first?" Eleanore asked, turning from her path to face him again.

"No, I'm good to wait."

"Okay, I'll just be a few minutes."

Steve stood looking around the living room for a moment as Eleanore disappeared into the bathroom. Then he went back into 'his' bedroom and opened his bag to grab a toothbrush and toothpaste. He could still hear that Eleanore was in the bathroom, so he took the opportunity to unpack his clean clothes and put them in the dresser. The all fit into the top drawer. _I need to do laundry. And get some more clothes._

Steve was retuning to the living room when the bathroom door opened and Eleanore emerged looking much the same as when she'd gone in.

"All yours," she stated with a small smile. "Oh, do you exercise in the morning?"

"Yeah, I usually do."

"Do you want my gym I.D. card so you can go there?"

"Sure, but won't you need it?"

"Ha," she laughed shortly. "Tomorrow I have a nine A.M. class, which might not sound early to you, but I'm going to get up and do homework before it so no. I don't need my card tomorrow." She fell silent and disappeared into her room for a moment.

"As long as you won't miss it. Thanks," Steve suddenly realized how much he had to thank her for, but before he found the words she returned and spoke again.

"It's no problem. And here," she turned from her purse with a card and a slip of paper in her hand. "I made a list of things you need to do to get settled in your apartment. I'll help as much as I can, but there's some things, like mattress shopping, that you can take care of. I wrote the name of the stores next to the things you need to get, and I wrote what most things should cost so you don't get stiffed—"

"Wait, when did you do all this?" Steve asked incredulously. _You were only in the bathroom for five minutes._

"While we were watching the movie," Eleanore said nonchalantly, shrugging it off. "I have classes the next couple of days, and I didn't want to hold you back from getting things done, so I made you a list with advice." She paused and tilted her head slightly to one side, her expression taking on a jovial light, "It's either helpful or bossy: you can decide later. I'm going to bed though." She looked exhausted as she shut the kitchen lights off and turned on a lamp beside the couch.

"Well thanks," Steve said, still a little taken aback as he examined the list. It was very detailed and organized, and it included side notes like, " _Don't be afraid to haggle for free delivery," a_ nd " _This store has the best-priced food, but don't buy meat there."_

"Goodnight," Eleanore said from the doorway of her room.

"Goodnight," Steve replied and watched her disappear inside. She left the door partway open, and he assumed it was for the dog who jumped on the couch and laid down. Steve went back into his room and laid the list and card on the dresser before he got ready for bed as well and grabbed the notebook and pencil off the end table on his way back to his room. He stayed up doodling flashes of memory from the War, which helped him sort his thoughts and wind down. Then he shut off his own light and fell into a sleep filled with dreams of a young Peggy dancing with him in a victory parade.


	14. Chapter 14

The next week or so passed quickly as Steve carried out the items on Eleanore's list. Steve traveled with Eleanore to buy sheets, a bath mat, curtains, and some clothing at a local retail store before they went to the flea market and bought various items of furniture, including a sofa, an end table, and a lamp. He was happy to have something to occupy himself as he adjusted to modern life and slowly made his apartment a home. He didn't buy much, only what he thought might be necessary to living. Eleanore advised him on decorations, but she didn't pressure him to buy anything he didn't want. An area rug was the one point they disagreed on, her saying he should have one and him refusing. Steve had his way in the end.

Eleanore spent time each day to specifically teach him new things she thought he should know about like Walmart versus Target, and whether or not to answer an unknown number on his phone.

"You have to be very careful about giving your number out," Eleanore explained as they sat across from each other in a small cafe. "Because telemarketers get ahold of your cell phone and bombard you with stupid calls until you want to pull your hair out."

What followed was a lengthy explanation about telemarketers and why Steve should just say, "No," and hang up on them.

Over the course of the week, Steve got settled into his new home with a lot of help from both Eleanore and Darren. Eleanore cooked a few "leftover meals" for Steve to keep in his freezer to eat when he didn't feel like cooking. She also organized almost his entire apartment, leaving only his bedroom alone. Darren came over and made sure everything was electronically sound, and he introduced Steve to things like surge protectors and remote controls. Steve liked their meddling, as it was always accompanied by laughing banter and amiable conversation.

After Steve got moved in, Eleanore fell into a routine of inviting him over and then leaving him to his own devices as she completed homework and household tasks. The dog was largely inactive, and Steve was impressed with how few times he needed to go outside. Jet only moved when Eleanore was leaving, which was a couple of times each day, or when she was cleaning, which was less often. He didn't eat much either, because Steve had never seen any sort of dog food around the apartment, but he had seen Eleanore giving Jet scraps from her cooking. He supposed that not moving much conserved a lot of energy.

Steve found himself sketching more and more as the days progressed. Memories of the War would surface, and Steve gave them solid lines with his pencil and life with his shading. He drew the Hydra base hallway where he'd found Bucky, all decrepit and empty except for the tools they used on prisoners. He drew the recruitment of the Howling Commandos and spent a long time shading in the background because the pub was so dark. He drew the majesty of the Alps as he had first seen them, before they claimed Bucky in their cold, harsh wilderness.

Eleanore walked into the living room as he put the finishing touches on one of the craggy cliffs Sunday afternoon, April 29th. Steve had begun coming over to her place whenever he worried about a memory's emotions firstly because she could help him calm down, but mostly because he enjoyed having the everyday sounds she made as she went about her day to pull him back to this new reality. Sometimes he closed his eyes and opened them expecting to see the 1940's again. Eleanore didn't pry, usually asking questions only when she caught a glimpse of his work, or when Steve voluntarily showed her. She kept to herself for the most part, reading or doing homework or painting, sometimes humming, singing, or talking to herself and going about her day.

"My homework is done for the weekend," Eleanore announced animatedly, earning an unimpressed look from Jet and a small grin of acknowledgment from Steve. Her expression grew more serious as she focused on Steve. "Can I talk to you about something?"

"Um, sure," Steve moved his supplies over on the couch to giver her room to sit, but left his notebook open on his lap. _Is this about something important? My field status? Peggy?_

"Those are mountains," Eleanore sat down on the other side of Steve's pencils, pulling her feet up underneath her.

"Yeah, the Alps," Steve replied, going with her change in subject. _Is she going to discuss art with me?_

"I love the mountains, but I've only ever been to Colorado," Eleanore commented, then shook her head. "Sorry, I'm avoiding the real subject here." She looked into Steve's eyes earnestly for a moment and Steve felt himself grow a little uncomfortable. "Steve, you know I trust you, right?"

 _What?_ "Sure…" he replied, not knowing where this was going. He felt a brush of anxiousness from Eleanore, which put him on edge. Whatever this was, it would have to be major to make her feelings affect his. She was usually so conscientious about it.

Eleanore seemed to hesitate and Steve was confused. "Whatever you have to tell me, you can," he reassured her. "I promise not to blow a gasket."

At that, she grinned a little. "Don't promise anything yet. Darren will be here soon, though, so maybe I should wait."

"Oh…kay?" Steve was completely confused. "Do you want me to leave so you can be alone, or…"

"No! Nothing about that. Fine. Here." She drew in a deep breath and sighed before continuing. "First off: What do you know about aliens?"

Steve blinked. "What?" He had grown used to Eleanore's quick subject changes, but nothing could have prepared him for this.

"Aliens. Like from other planets."

"I don't know anything about them." Steve wracked his memory, but he had nothing. "I mean, they were a theory, but… Are you saying they're out there?"

"Um, more like in here. In this apartment." Eleanore shifted nervously, her eyes still locked on Steve to gauge his reaction.

"I thought you were a mutant." Steve was just processing what she had said and staring at her, waiting for the punch line to this joke.

"I _am_. A mutant from Earth." Eleanore sighed again and finished in a rush, "Darren and Jet are aliens."

Steve looked at Jet, who was watching him with interest, then back to Eleanore. "I think I need more information."

"Well, the first thing you should know is that I didn't tell you right away because SHIELD doesn't know." Eleanore went into information-sharing mode, leaning forward, watching Steve to make sure he got everything, eyes alight. "And please don't get mad that I'm only telling you now."

"Wait, why are you telling me now if you didn't before?" Steve _wasn't_ angry. At all. But he was very confused.

"Because Darren's dad Tony (who is a human, by the way) kind of hacked a little into SHIELD's files and found out that they found out about an alien visit that _wasn't_ Darren or Jet, and so we're going to tell them soon, but not yet. And Darren is only half alien bec—" a knock at the door interrupted her monologue and Darren poked his head inside.

"You told him?" he asked, taking in Steve's blank expression.

"I'm telling him now," Eleanore said. "Come say your part of the story."

"Okay," Darren walked comfortably into the room and Eleanore scooted closer to Steve on the couch so he could sit down. Both of them were still far enough away to watch Steve's reaction.

"So," Darren started. "Here's the interesting part. Apparently Earth is a part of a cosmic system (like the Solar System, but on a much larger scale) which has nine other inhabited planets. And one of those isn't a planet at all, more like a big, flat piece of land with a giant castle on it that defies Earth's laws of physics—"

"Dear," Eleanore interrupted. "Just tell him about you."

"Oh yeah," Darren put an arm around her shoulder and continued. "So I'm halfway from a realm— planet— called Vanaheim, which has people pretty much like humans, only they're stronger, they live longer, and they can do magic. My mom is really from there. She came to Earth to see how society has progressed here since the Ice War, and she fell in love with my dad for a while and they had me. Then she went back to her planet, and here we are," Darren looked at Eleanore. "Did I leave anything out?"

"No," she responded. "Steve, questions?"

Steve's mind reeled a bit, but he focused on the main points Darren had made, and the ones he wanted to know more about. "Magic?"

"Yeah, do you want a demonstration?" Darren seemed eager, raising his hand so that his palm was flat in the air near Eleanore's head.

"Maybe not!" Eleanore quickly interjected, placing her hand over Darren's. "This is all probably overwhelming."

"No," Steve said, trying to sound reasonable while his mind kept repeating _not real, not real_. "Seeing is believing and all that."

"Great," Darren put his hand back up and a silvery strand of light wove its way up his hand and into the air. It spread once it hit the ceiling, and curved into tiny, beautiful vines with white flowers. Soon the room was covered with the glistening leaves and shining blossoms. Steve watched as Darren closed his hand into a fist and the vines turned to stardust, ghosting through the air with the leftover petals riding in their wake. It all vanished as soon as it hit the floor.

The entire room was silent for a moment, the only sound the breathing of the four creatures inside.

"That was beautiful," Eleanore said reverently, hugging Darren then tickling him. "So how come when you told me about your magic, you blew a computer up with it instead of that lovely display?"

"You're special," Darren told her, kissing her forehead lightly. "So are you a believer now, Steve?"

"Definitely," Steve smiled fully. "That was amazing." _And it's nice to be in the loop ahead of SHIELD for once._

Jet snorted, and Steve's attention was turned back to him. "So… what can he do?"

Eleanore and Darren looked at each other, and Darren smiled.

"Well, if you're in the mood for another demonstration," Eleanore said, "then come with us and we'll show you."


	15. Chapter 15

They took Eleanore's car because Darren's Tesla was too small for all four of them to fit comfortably. Darren drove with Steve in the passenger seat since, as Eleanore had wisely pointed out, the two of them had the longest legs. She sat in the back behind Darren, but leaned closer with her hand on Darren's seat to be part of the conversation.

"So, do you want to hear why I have an alien in my apartment?" she asked as soon as they got pulled out of the driveway. It was a sunny day, with a very small breeze wending its way through the buildings of the city.

"Of course," Steve replied, musing that a week ago he would have been incredibly tense about anyone driving him who-knew-where. He mentally shrugged, figuring that out of all the people on Earth these two were more likely to prevent his death than not.

"Darren, do you have—"

"I turned it on as soon as I got to your apartment building," Darren replied. "But you were already talking, so if SHIELD was listening—"

"Then they'd be violating our agreement, and I'd have to stop working with them." Eleanore made a face, then brightened. "But we'd still hang out with you, Steve."

Darren started chanting, "One of us! One of us!" under his breath.

"Okay, stop it," Eleanore chided.

"What does he have?" Steve asked, left behind by their interjected exchange. He felt somewhat relaxed even so. Eleanore and Darren had that effect when Steve was around them.

"It's a scrambler device that prevents SHIELD or anyone else from listening in on our conversations," Darren explained. "Elle signed a contract with them that she'd report all important developments involving you, and in return they promised not to bug her home or car. But I don't trust them," he shrugged. "They want to corner the market on secrets—"

"Okay, but let's focus on me again," Eleanore interrupted cheerily, causing Darren to roll his eyes and smile. "So Darren here is an alien, and I had no idea when we started dating, but he told me right away, which pissed his dad off but he got over it." She settled into her speed-telling mode, and Steve settled in for the ride. Darren merged onto the interstate quietly.

"So I knew Darren was an alien, but he acted pretty normal most of the time. We dated for two years, and then he asked me one day if I'd like to go see his mom's home planet, because apparently he made a trip every year. And I was like, yeah sure."

"Not your brightest move," Darren joked, glancing back at her in the mirror.

"Actually it worked out pretty well," Eleanore rebutted. "So Darren called ahead somehow using magic and told them he had a plus-one and we went to a remote location for a beam-up— we'll show you Star Trek sometime, Steve— and it was painless, but when I looked around after it was over, I was in a wilderness of mountains and trees on a strange planet, no people in sight. They launched me too far."

"No, they calculated for my dad, not you, and you were basically lucky to be alive after that." Darren's expression changed as he remembered the close call.

"Right. So there I was, lucky to be alive," Eleanore continued energetically, ignoring her sombre boyfriend. "And night was falling, so I saw this glow far away on the other side of some trees and rocks, and I headed there."

"And you're supposed to stay still if you're lost," Darren loudly protested.

"Thanks mom. So when I got close to the glow I saw that it was these glowing, warm rocks. Well, not warm. More like kind of melting. But they warmed me and I was cold, so I stayed on the edge of that clearing place while the rocks kept glowing. After a while I could tell they were cooling off, obviously not naturally occurring, so I wondered what had made them so hot. Darren here hadn't really told me about native animals, so imagine my surprise when two giant flying things landed in front of me and started growling."

"They were dragons," Darren clarified.

"Hard to see that when night was falling and all I could think was, I didn't ask my mom if I could come to a strange planet oh my god she's going to flip when she finds out I got killed without even informing her." Eleanore's eyes grew distant with remembered fear. Steve could sympathize with that. He still got chills when he remembered his first real battle sometimes.

"But then one of the dragons— the smaller one: one was big and yellow, the other was smaller and orange— lunged at me jaws snapping, and I was just ready to die then and there. But the other yellow dragon got in its way, and they growled some more, and I don't remember a lot of their exchange because I think I got a little hysterical and hyperventilated. The next thing I knew, I was being looked at by these two dragons. The yellow one was closer, and it was coming toward me slowly. So I did the logical thing and stepped toward it, and we met in the middle in this really cool movie moment where I was right at its snout, and it could have snapped me up in one bite easy."

Darren shifted uncomfortably, glancing back in the mirror once more. Steve noted that they were heading into a more rural area, trees all around.

"But it didn't, just breathed on me a lot. Its breath was really scorching, and I backed away a little. It stretched its neck toward me, and then its tail was behind me and I reflexively grabbed it because I almost tripped. So that's literally the first modern human contact with a dragon— I'm wanting to change it in the history books." Eleanore smiled absently and paused for a moment, lost in memory. Steve could kind of see the picture she was painting with words, although he just imagined the landscape to be like Earth's.

"Then it wrapped its tail around me to keep me from falling, and we just fell still a sat for a minute, looking at each other. Then the dragon huffed a little and motioned back with its head, but I didn't get it. So it lifted me onto its back. And took off. And my memory fails me again there, because I was scared shitless and I don't know how I stayed on. But then we were landing somewhere warmer, like the air was warmer, and it was more rainforesty than mountainy. Before we entered the trees I saw what looked like buildings a couple of miles away. The dragon I was riding landed first, and I only knew the other one was there when it almost knocked me over with its wings as it touched down. I slid off my dragon friend's back, thinking maybe they brought me here to safety when both of the dragons started acting weird, and the yellow one curled around me and I could feel it spitting fire. I could hear the other one fighting too, and this went on for a while before the yellow dragon screamed and it was in horrible pain. I pushed on its leg and made it out of there, and then I was on this battlefield with fire all around in the trees, and people shooting arrows everywhere and throwing spears. The orange dragon was trying to protect the yellow one, but I could see the yellow one's side gaping open and blood spilling everywhere, so I ran over and tried to heal it. But I couldn't. The wound was huge, and I was already tired from everything that day, so really all I accomplished was getting covered in golden blood." Eleanore's face changed from excited to sad as she spoke. "So I went around to the yellow dragon's face and said I'm sorry, for all the good that would do, and I tried to make it as painless as possible. The orange dragon stopped fighting and curled against the yellow dragon's side as it died." Her voice grew softer and she paused, glancing at Steve and giving him a sad grin.

"After it was over I heard the yelling die down, and then just one voice yelling at me. It was Darren. He'd been in the village trying to pinpoint my location, and he arrived a little after the fighting started so he didn't see me until I went around to heal the wound. Apparently the dragons and the Vanir— people from Vanaheim— had an ongoing cold war, and each side would attack every once in a while. They had lookouts who spotted us flying in and attacked right away. It was nighttime so it was hard to see me anyway, I suppose. So then we were reunited and I screamed at everyone who had fought the dragons, which, let me tell you, is a great way to introduce yourself to your future in-laws. The orange dragon just lay there, and I thought it was dead too, except then I felt its emotional pain as well. Darren told me they had to have been mates. So I went up to the orange dragon because no one else was going to, and I sat by him for a few hours. Then we got up and came home. And the orange dragon came with me." Eleanore turned to Jet, who had been steadfastly looking out the window, and stroked his head. He shook her off. "He's not very cuddly, but he is protective."

"Wait, so Jet is the orange dragon who didn't like you?" Steve understood, but was still wrapping his head around the unexpected turn.

"Yeah." Darren spoke up, his voice loud in the quiet car. "Dragon mate strictly for life, so when one mate dies the other one either dies with them or lives alone. The ones who live alone often go crazy."

"But Jet's not crazy," Eleanore assured Steve. "Darren's mom says that he made his new purpose protecting me, since his mate died doing that."

"So he can talk?" Steve asked, bewildered. Would a talking dragon be any stranger than a non-vocal one?

"No one knows," Eleanore replied. "Dragons do have their own language, although they haven't been studied closely enough to decipher most of it. They're kind of like dolphins, only smarter. Jet can understand what we're saying, but I don't know if he doesn't respond because he can't or because he's just not into sharing."

"Dragons are beings born of magic," Darren interjected. "So they could pass the Allspeak down from generation to generation. Some have communicated before, but not through language. More like a mind-meld."

"Well, here we are." Eleanore sat back in her seat as Darren parked the car outside the same abandoned factory Eleanore had brought Steve to the day he saw Peggy again.

"What happens here?" Steve got out of the car and stretched his legs, surveying the trees surrounding them. When he turned back to the car, the Eleanore was standing next to the orange dragon from her story. The eyes were the same blue with the underwater pattern, so it was easy for Steve to identify Jet. The dragon was like legends come to life. He was large compared to the human in front of him, his shoulder ending about three feet above her head, the serpentine neck going up another five feet or so. He was covered with glistening scales that shifted hues as he moved, two rows of evenly-spaced blue spikes that carried down his back tapered to one at his tail, and his face was undoubtedly lizardlike. The wings were also gleaming, and as Steve focused on them he noticed very tiny scales overlaying them as well. Two strong back legs and two smaller front ones resembled a lion's powerful limbs, ending in reptilian clawed feet. The tail coiled around the body whip-like, smaller spikes adorning its length.

"Darren and Tony set up this place. It projects an image up into the atmosphere for an area of about three square miles, and Jet and I come here a couple of times a week to fly." Eleanore grinned and went over to sling an arm around Darren's back. He kissed her forehead.

"Want to watch a flight?" Eleanore asked, swinging up onto Jet's back with apparent ease.

"Don't you need the saddle?" Darren cautioned, opening the trunk of Eleanore's car.

"I'll put it on later," she replied, patting Jet's neck. Before she said another word, the dragon crouched and spread its impressive wings, and then hurtled itself into the sky.

Darren sighed and leaned against the car's bumper, pulling a pair of binoculars from his pocket. Steve walked over to stand beside him, looking at the sky until his eyes hurt. The dragon's flight was something to behold. On the ground, he was certainly formidable, but in the air he was something else entirely, weaving through the lower clouds at gut-wrenching speeds.

"She ever fallen off?" Steve asked nonchalantly.

"Yeah, but she acted like it was on purpose," Darren winced at the memory. "Jet caught her, but it was close. Want a look?" he handed the binoculars to Steve, who thanked him and held them to his eyes.

It was difficult to track Jet's movement, and even more so too identify Eleanore on his back. The glimpses Steve caught of them showed the dragon flat-out, Eleanore sitting plastered to his back, legs clinging to his sides, hands on a couple of spikes at Jet's shoulder. She looked like she might have been yelling at times, whooping with joy, but none of the sound made it to the ground because of a light breeze stirring the trees.

The pair flew for around ten minutes before soaring down, Jet's wings out like a kite to slow them as then landed gently in the exact spot they'd taken off from.

"Whew!" Eleanore jumped down, smiling. "I'll get the saddle now. Windy up there." She came over to Darren and they pulled a large silver vinyl blanket with straps out of the trunk and Jet knelt down and actually smoothed his spikes down so they could throw it over his back, straightening them back up to fit through holes in the fabric. It only took a moment for the two of them to get everything strapped, since there were only a few buckles. The saddle had one strap to go under Jet's belly and one to wrap around his chest so it wouldn't slide off. It looked sturdy, and the actual saddle part was small with a clearly defined seat, a small pouch behind that, and two sets of straps for the passenger's legs on the side.

Eleanore reached up to Jet's head to bring him down to her level, and he complied, snaking his head around so he blocked her from sight. Steve could hear her voice whispering, but he couldn't make out what she was saying. Finally they separated and all three of them— two aliens and one human mutant— focused their attention on Steve.

"So Steve," Eleanore asked, "Fancy a ride?"


	16. Chapter 16

Steve stared at Eleanore, then the dragon in front of him. Jet looked away, up to the sky. The wind rustled softly through the trees around them. Darren was looking between Eleanore and Steve, waiting for an answer.

"Are you sure?" Steve asked, glancing around at the three of them, lingering longest on the dragon, who looked away when Steve made eye contact.

"Well you don't have to," Eleanore assured him. "I just didn't want you to feel left out."

Steve grinned slightly at her blunt answer and shrugged. "Sure, if Jet is okay with it." The dragon looked at him again and cocked its head.

"I talked to him, and he seems okay," Eleanore stated excitedly. "Come on, I'll get you situated."

Steve quickly learned that 'getting situated' meant a lecture on which spikes to hold onto, how to position his legs, where to place his bottom, and how to balance his weight in tune with the dragon as it changed direction.

"I'm coming with you on this first run," Eleanore informed him, "purely for safety's sake." Steve supposed it was her dragon, her rules, and nodded.

"So you'll catch me if I fall off?" he joked, but Eleanore nodded seriously.

"Well, I won't," she amended. "Jet will. I'll just try to help you balance and _not_ fall."

"We should have brought a waiver," Darren quipped, and Eleanore smiled even as Steve was lost.

"Alright Steve, up you get," she said. Steve tried to mount the same way she had, and got it mostly right. He looked down as Jet stood and Eleanore reached up her hand. Steve pulled her up and she sat behind him, arms around his chest. "This okay?" she queried, and Steve nodded because he was fine with it, but still glad she had asked permission.

"Oka— wait, Jet— okay, ready?"

"Yep," Steve's stomach clenched a little with anticipation as he felt Jet's muscles tense and Eleanore's hold on his chest tighten.

"Hold on." He obeyed, and suddenly the world lurched downward, wings were on either side of him, and they were in the air.

Steve had been in many airplanes before. He'd crossed the Atlantic in one to get to Europe, he'd jumped out of some, and he'd thought he was going to die in the most advanced aircraft of his time. This was not comparable to any of those experiences.

For one thing, the beating of Jet's wings as he swiftly rose made Steve's insides lurch and his fingers tighten in the spikes in front of him. The dragon's body was angled almost perpendicularly to the ground, and Steve had to squeeze his legs to gain purchase on the saddle so he wouldn't kick Eleanore off. The ground was a haze in the periphery as he focused on the spot straight in front of Jet's nose, the wispy clouds coming more into focus as ice crystals as they rose. The sky was a more brilliant blue from this height, and off to the West Steve could see a haze over the far away city.

Suddenly they leveled out, and Steve lurched forward slightly, hearing Eleanore gasp from behind him. Her right arm moved to his shoulder and pulled back, righting him as the dragon's wings stopped beating and settled into a glide. Steve looked around at the expanse of land before him. Most aircraft from his experience had lacked windows for passengers; they were more like large metal tubed for pure transportation with some weapons hooked onto the sides for protection. The _Valkyrie_ had afforded Steve a good view of the ice in front of him, and the ocean below, but he hadn't enjoyed it as he was faced with certain doom. Now he looked down at the treetops, and even saw birds below them, flapping along. He'd never seen a bird fly from above before. These were simple crows, but their top feathers glowed blue-green in the sun and their eyes stared straight ahead. That is, until they glanced up and fluttered away, cawing in panic at the dragon's shadow above them.

The forest extended for a couple of miles in each direction, broken up only by the building in the clearing below them. The rolling green hills kept Steve centered in the present, as memories of weightlessness, explosions, and ice threatened to emerge.

"Do you know what a waiver is?" Eleanore called over his shoulder, snatching Steve out of his observational reverie. Her voice was torn back by the wind in their faces, but she shorter than Steve was, so his body blocked most of it.

"No I don't," Steve turned his head slightly to the left, trying to find her face. He caught a glimpse of hazel eyes and an elated grin just as the wing he was facing dipped downward and he was caught in another scramble for balance. This one he almost lost, his legs slipping from where they'd relaxed, hands and arms fighting to keep him upright. An image flashed through his mind of him dragging Eleanore down with him, and he wondered if the dragon would catch them both.

"Let go of me!" he yelled, feeling the dragon listing into an awkward descent as Steve's weight dragged them to one side.

"No!" Eleanore shouted back. She roughly grabbed Steve's right arm and threw all of her weight to the other side, bringing him back upright. Once he got his legs repositioned, Eleanore readjusted herself quickly and they went back into their graceful, descending turn.

"It's a legal thing." Eleanore shouted again in his ear, raising herself slightly by slinging one arm over Steve's shoulder. They were making a return sweep high above the car. Steve could just make Darren out, standing where they'd taken off from. Steve imagined falling towards him, faster and faster, no parachute, nothing to stop his fall. Maybe if he angled himself to the trees he might survive… Steve shook his head and forced himself to come back to Eleanore's statement.

"A waiver is?" sometimes her mind could make quick leaps to different subjects, but Steve could usually keep up with her. This time, it seemed, she was focused on her explanation.

"Yeah." She spoke conversationally over the wind. "You sign it promising not to sue us if you fall off Jet and die." The dragon's wings came up beside them until they encompassed most of Steve's peripheral vision, slowing their descent.

"How could I sue you if I'm dead?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's only if you're injured. Just don't sue us, okay?" She didn't sound worried, a smile in her voice.

"We'll see," Steve joked, earning a laugh that jolted off as they touched down in the clearing once more.

Darren was already beside them as Steve jumped off Jet's back. The younger man offered a hand to Eleanore as she descended.

"I almost fell too, my first time," Darren commented, not looking back at him, and Steve inwardly grimaced. _He must have been watching through the binoculars._

"You _almost_ fell a lot more than Steve did," Eleanore laughed, nudging her boyfriend playfully.

"But neither of us signed a waiver, so… we could sue you." Darren deadpanned, bringing more laughter from the woman beside him. Steve had to smile as well at the ridiculous notion.

Jet trotted off into the building, and Eleanore and Darren led the way back to the car.

"You don't want to follow Jet," Elle reassured Steve. "He's going to devour a whole cow in a couple of bites. It's feeding day."

"You feed him a whole cow… how often?" Steve asked, incredulous.

"Only once a month or so. He actually doesn't eat that much for as big as he is," Eleanore shrugged and Jet suddenly reemerged, walking slowly across the grass. His stomach was distended, but other than that there was no sign of him having eaten. Steve guessed that dragons must be habitually clean.

Just then there was a rustling from the foliage off to their left, behind the building. All of them froze, then Jet quickly shifted back into a dog, hackles raised.

"Wait guys," Eleanore whispered, holding up a hand. "It's not a human."

"What is it?" Darren asked just as a _meow_ sounded from the tall grass.

"Here kitty kitty!" Eleanore stepped forward quickly as a large kitten emerged from the grass. It ran up to her immediately, rubbing on her legs and purring loudly. It looked mostly brown, covered in dirt, with black stripes underneath. The only parts of the cat that Steve could clearly make out were its green-gray eyes

"Elle, it probably has fleas." Darren backed away in distaste. Steve wasn't too keen on the animal either. It looked mangy and half-starved, and after lice and fleas in the trenches, he wasn't getting too close.

"Oh, he's okay." Eleanore answered him, running a hand over the cat. "There, all gone." She picked the kitten up and cuddled it close. "Someone probably dropped him off in the woods, and he heard us so he followed the sound." She paused and gazed at the animal purring in her arms. "I've been thinking of adopting a cat, so this works."

"Isn't that kind of a quick decision?" Darren asked gently, walking over to Eleanore and placing his hand on her shoulder. "If we take it to the animal shelter he'll be taken care of and adopted. Kittens always are."

"But I want him. I love him already. Look, he even likes him tummy scratched!" Eleanore exclaimed quietly, holding the kitten on its back like a baby. Steve could hear its purrs from ten feet away.

"Well," Darren glanced at Steve and shrugged. "Are you sure you have time for it?"

"He's a cat. Once he grows up he'll just sleep most of the day."

"And what are you going to do until he's grown up?" Darren was petting the kitten, even as he cautioned Eleanore.

"I'm home a lot now. Maybe I could get him certified as a therapy animal and take him to Mom's place with me." Eleanore was only getting more excited about the cat. Jet sidled over and sniffed the kitten, who rubbed its nose on his face. Steve could sense victory for Eleanore.

"We'll have to stop and get some stuff for him on the way back then." Darren turned back to the car and shrugged again.

"Okay!" Eleanore followed him and gave Steve a huge smile. He nodded and grinned back, wondering if this was how she normally made decisions. A bit hasty for his liking, but he couldn't fault her if she'd already been planning on getting a cat anyway.

They all piled into the car in the same order as before, with Eleanore holding the kitten in the back seat. Steve wondered how well the cat would travel for an hour, but he curled into Eleanore's lap as soon as Darren started the car.

"I wonder what to name him?" Eleanore spoke up over his shoulder, her voice combined with the kitten's purring.

"Whiskers," Steve suggested, glancing back at her. She was smiling profusely and petting the cat, who was lying on its back and soaking up the attention. Jet was looking out the window, and Eleanore occasionally gave him a quick pat, which he ignored. Steve wondered if the dragon would get jealous of the cat. _Probably not._

"Not Whiskers. He's a person, look at him." She help the kitten up and it blinked lazily at Steve.

"Brainless. Dummy. Dumbo." Darren spoke up, and Eleanore laughed.

"I'm not naming him after your dad's robots."

"I've never had a pet, so that's what I got." Darren shrugged and kept his eyes on the road.

"How about Tesla?" Eleanore held the cat up to eye level. "Huh? Tesla! Tessy?" It didn't respond.

"There was a cat in my neighborhood named Otis," Steve offered. It didn't sit well with him for this cat, though. Otis had been huge, bad-tempered, and orange with yellow eyes.

"No offense, but I don't like that name," Eleanore looked apologetic, but Steve just nodded and grinned.

"Tigger?" she tried again. Still no response, although Steve didn't know what she expected. Maybe just for a name to stick and feel right. "Rex? No. Mason? No. Charlie?" she paused and stared at the cat. "I like that one."

"That's a person name," Darren pointed out. Steve didn't know if he was trying to be helpful or just making an observation.

"Charlie it is," Eleanore crowed triumphantly, hugging the cat close. Then she sneezed forcefully. Steve saw a cloud of dust fly off the cat's coat. Eleanore wiped her nose and smiled. "Charlie needs a bath."

Steve settled back into his seat, staring out the the windshield as the forest quickly gave way to abandoned buildings, a gas station, and the city loomed up ahead. He let him mind go blank, relaxed, listened to Eleanore murmuring to the kitten, the purr of the engine, the whisper of the tires. Thinking of nothing in particular was relaxing, and Steve didn't often get a chance to do it. He avoided it when he was alone, because memories of death and destruction, ice and water would creep in and before long he would have images flashing through his head, and sometimes he was lost in a full-scale flashback. He hadn't told anyone about it, but Eleanore seemed to understand. She invited him over every day, and just having someone there was a relief. The normal sounds of living she and Jet made brought him back from the edge of the memories and collected his mind into an intelligible calm. Often, Steve would find himself watching her go about her day as he simply sat on the couch, grateful for the chance to rest and gather himself.

The lack of action was not wearing on him as of yet, but Steve knew it was only a matter of time before he was thrust back into the real world as it was now, and he was taking time to orient himself and make sure he was fit to lead. The last thing he wanted was for a flashback to hit him during a battle, forcing his teammates to protect him and put themselves at risk. If time was what it took to avoid that, Steve was more than willing to invest it.

Darren pulled off into a Walmart parking lot on the outskirts of the city, and Steve roused himself back to the present.

"So who wants to stay with Charlie in the car?" Eleanore asked. Steve realized that, while he would have been fine waiting for up to an hour, the sunny, warm day would heat the car past bearable temperature for a normal animal. Eleanore even let Jet sit outside the car when she couldn't take him inside somewhere, both in the interest of keeping him cool and letting him spend some time outside. This wouldn't work for a cat for obvious reasons.

"I can stay with him," Steve offered, though he kind of wanted to go into the store and grab a few things for his apartment. Milk ran out surprisingly quickly when one used it in protein shakes.

"No, I can see both of you want to come in." Eleanore frowned at them thoughtfully. "Jet, could you stay in here and turn the car on if it gets too hot? We won't be gone long, I promise."

The dog-dragon snorted and laid down on the seat. Steve couldn't tell if he was pleased, angry, or indifferent.

"Thanks," Eleanore reached over and rubbed his ears. "Okay Charlie, we'll be right back." So saying, she gently set the kitten on the floor and quickly exited the car. Steve and Darren did the same, and they all headed into the superstore.

"How much stuff do you think you need for him?" Darren asked Eleanore, and she looked up at him, brow creasing.

"Well, there'd food, bowls, a litter box, litter, and probably shampoo and a brush."

Darren raised his eyebrows, "All for that little kitten?"

"It's one-time expenses for the most part," Eleanore reassured him, glancing at Steve who had fallen behind them. "Let's split up, get what we need, and meet back in about fifteen minutes, okay?"

"Sounds good," Steve grabbed a basket and Eleanore and Darren got a cart.

They separated at the store entrance, and Steve headed immediately to the human food section. _Milk, eggs, peanut butter, bread._ He repeated this litany to himself and focused on only buying what he needed, instead of things that caught his eye. This time period had such flashy packaging that his eyes kept roving around and getting distracted whenever he was looking for an item. He wouldn't have admitted it, but having Eleanore there often helped because she was so used to the colors and smells that each product emitted, often they seemed to flow right over her.

The bread aisle was first, and Steve picked out a whole-grain loaf that he'd eaten and enjoyed at Eleanore's apartment. Then came the peanut butter, of which he preferred the crunchy variety. Milk and eggs were in relatively the same area, and then Steve had some time to kill before he had to meet the other two up front. He gazed at the signs above the aisles, picturing his apartment and mentally ticking off necessary items. His eye fell on _Candy_ and he walked toward it, just to browse. He didn't generally eat too many sweets, but once in a while they were good. He noted the familiar suckers, caramels, and mints from his childhood, and then he spotted the _Ghirardelli Dark Chocolate Raspberry_ bag on a shelf with higher-end chocolates. He grabbed one bag, thinking that if he ever invited Eleanore over, or if she healed someone and needed them, then he would have them handy. Besides, they tasted pretty good.

Noting his time was nearly up, Steve walked back to the front of the store and waited near the flower cooler for the other two to show up. They arrived just in time, Eleanore's listed items in tow, along with a couple of cat toys.

"Ready?" she asked, and Steve nodded. They went to the _10 Items or Less_ checkout lane and were on their way back to the car in a matter of minutes.

"Hang on," Eleanore paused just before they reached the vehicle, glancing down at her legs. "Here. Phone call." She shoved her bags into Darren's hands, and he took them with no fuss. Quickly extricating her phone from her back pocket, she swiped the screen and held it up to her ear.

"Hi Tony, is Darren not answering again?" she asked brightly. Steve could barely hear the voice on the other end over the outdoor noises, and he couldn't understand what they were saying. He focused instead on putting his bags in the trunk beside Darren's, and keeping the cold things up front near his legs. When he turned back, he saw a look of horror on Eleanore's face.

"What? Are you sure?" she asked tensely. "How do you know?" Squabbling from the other end. "Okay. We'll meet you there." She hung up the phone and looked straight to Darren. "That was your dad. SHIELD called him. They know about you."

__


	17. Chapter 17

**Steve's first reaction was to glance around and make sure nobody heard them. There were people halfway across the parking lot, but they were busy loading their cars or holding their children's' hands.**

"How did they find out?" Darren asked, his entire body tense.

"Your dad said, 'that's what I'm going to find out," Eleanore shrugged and heaved a deep sigh. "Let's go drop everything off at the apartment and plan on the way." She opened the car door, lifted the cat from where it lay on her seat, and got in.

After that, there wasn't much else to say. Darren looked at Steve, confused and perhaps a bit angry, and went around to the driver's side door. Steve got in the passenger's seat, resolving to help them in any way he could.

"Okay," Eleanore began as soon as Darren started the car. "Tony won't be at SHIELD for about an hour. That gives us time to set up Charlie's litter box and food and stuff, and maybe wipe him down a little. Then we can go meet Tony at the Triskelion."

"You don't have to come with," Darren interjected. He was driving very quickly, but still not too far above the speed limit. Steve wondered if the mundane task was allowing him to calm down a bit.

"Yes I do, Jet's an alien." Eleanore retorted simply. "And don't worry. Just because we didn't want them to find out this way doesn't mean it's all bad. We were going to tell them anyway, right?"

"But this means someone else knows and told them," Darren's forehead creased with worry.

"It could be someone inside SHIELD," Steve suggested, recalling Dr. Rouldkin. A flash of anger lit up his mind, but he stamped it out quickly. Anger wouldn't help, logic would.

"Yeah, it could," Eleanore agreed. Steve couldn't see her face, but she sounded thoughtful.

"Or someone trying to blackmail my dad," Darren added, and Steve suddenly thought about how much this must weigh on the young man's mind. From his observations, and Eleanore's offhand comments over the week, Steve had noticed just how conservative Darren Stark was in his actions. He didn't have the flash and showiness of Howard, but was instead filled with a quiet strength of will, and a focus for his technology. Steve wondered who this boy's mother was, and whether she or Tony had taught him to behave this way.

"But who knows about you? I mean, other than Pepper and Jarvis," Eleanore contradicted as they pulled up to the apartment building. "Anyway, we can ask where they got their information from."

"They might not tell us." Darren got out of the car and picked up the bags and litter easily, and Eleanore exited holding Charlie and extracting her keys from her purse. Steve gathered his groceries and followed them into the building.

They were all silent on the stairs, and Steve thought about how he could help them with the situation. Eleanore didn't sound overly worried, but Darren was definitely tense. The difference in their attitudes probably had less to do with the seriousness of the problem and more to do with their attitude toward rebellion. Steve had been around both of them enough to notice that Darren contemplated everything intensely and avoided breaking the rules wherever possible, while Eleanore was one for quick decisions and apologizing after the deed was done. Her initial shock was now replaced by cool indifference, at least on the surface, while Darren's tension only grew worse with time.

"Okay, let's get everything put away first," Eleanore broke the silence as she approached her door. Steve nodded and unlocked his own, then proceeded to hurriedly stack everything in its assigned place. Eleanore had told him as she helped him move in that keeping his living space organized would likely help him feel calmer while he was there, and it had. Walking into the cool quiet of his apartment was less lonely and more relaxing than Steve could have hoped for a mere week ago. He had given himself a schedule for cleaning that aligned with his meetings and helped keep him occupied in his otherwise silent home. He'd also taken to playing records to keep himself company, both because the familiar music relaxed him, and because he didn't want to go running to Eleanore every time he got lonely or jittery or lost in memories.

Groceries put away, Steve grabbed his SHIELD ID and a granola bar, in case the meeting went long or he didn't have the opportunity for supper. His body could go for a long time without food, but he didn't like to deprive himself if he didn't have to. He locked the door behind him and headed down the hall, not pausing to knock before entering Eleanore's apartment.

He was greeted by shuffling sounds, and Eleanore's quiet crooning as she wiped the cat down with a damp washcloth. Charlie did not approve of this treatment, and he was fighting for every inch of fur cleaned.

"Hey," Eleanore greeted quickly, before returning to her task. Darren waved from the kitchen where he was putting away the cat food in the pantry.

"So did you come up with a plan?" Steve asked, hoping they had, or that he could help them find one.

Eleanore shrugged, "Not really. Darren's having our suits flown to the car, and Hill isn't answering her phone. So." She smiled at him uncertainly and let go of the cat, who started licking himself furiously.

"Whatever happens, I don't think SHIELD will make an enemy of us," Darren reassured her. His words were calm, but his body language spoke of thoughtful stress.

Eleanore didn't answer him, instead filling the litter box and setting Charlie inside. Then she put it in the corner near the counter, put the lid on it, and set up the food and water bowls on top. Steve stood awkwardly in the doorway, wanting to help, but not wanting to get in the way. Darren came and stood next to him, both of them watching as Eleanore picked up the cat and showed him the food. Charlie began to eat immediately, but not quickly, taking his time and picking up one piece of food, chewing it, and moving on.

"Well, it looks like he's set up," Eleanore turned to face them, sighing. "So, what's the deal?"

Steve glanced at Darren, who looked back. They shrugged simultaneously. Steve wondered if they'd want him to come with them to SHIELD, or if it was more of a family matter.

Eleanore smiled, "Okay. Steve, could I ask you a favor?"

He nodded, "Anything."

"Could you stay and watch Charlie while we're gone? I'll text you as soon as we get to SHIELD, and as soon as we leave."

"Of course," Steve didn't know how much watching a small cat would need, but he assumed this was Eleanore's attempt to make him feel useful while keeping him uninvolved in the real problem. He didn't resent it, because it was really not his area, and he'd only met these two a few days ago. He would like to help where he could, though.

"Thanks so much," Eleanore gathered up her purse again, patted Charlie on the head, and stepped around Steve to get to the door. Steve turned to watch them go, and felt the cat brush against his ankle as it tried to follow them. Eleanore bent to pick it up, "Use my laptop if you want to play music or anything, eat what you want, and just please make sure Charlie uses the litter box if he has to 'go'." Here, she thrust the kitten into Steve's arms, and he held it gingerly. "I don't know how long we'll be gone. Text if anything goes wrong or seems weird. Sound okay?"

"Yep," Steve felt like he was talking to his mother as she headed off to a nursing shift. Nostalgia hit, but didn't overwhelm him. "I'll hold down the fort. Good luck."

"Thanks," Eleanore left, followed by Jet, then Darren.

"Yeah, thanks!" Darren grinned a little at him, nodded, and closed the door.

Steve didn't bother to lock it, in case they forgot something and decided to come back. He heard their steps recede as he turned back to the quiet apartment and looked down at the cat in his arms. Charlie was purring softly and looking around interestedly. He wriggled, and Steve set him down gently. Charlie trilled and looked up at him before running off to sniff every corner of the apartment, starting under the couch.

Steve ventured back to the couch as well, picking up his sketchbook and pencil from where he'd left them earlier. He glanced at the Alps, and turned the page, wanting to get away from past memories for the moment. With nothing else to see, Steve watched Charlie dart back and forth from room to room, and he began a rough outline.

Drawing a moving cat was much different from sketching from memory, so he started small. In the top left corner of the page, he tried to capture Charlie's poses in a few quick strokes. Two or three looked okay, but Steve left the rest and enjoyed the challenge of live motion. Eleanore texted him "At SHIELD," and he replied, "All clear at home," before returning to his art. An hour passed, full of drawing, erasing, glancing, and rotating the page for a better angle as the kitten roved and wandered, jumping up on things and gazing out the windows in apparent awe.

Charlie disappeared into the bathroom for a time, so Steve took a break and retrieved Eleanore's laptop from her desk. He noted the full battery, as he sat at the island in the kitchen and browsed the news while a spring twilight fell over the room. It was peaceful, and he wondered for a moment if Eleanore somehow unknowingly left a calming effect anywhere she spent a long amount of time. _Maybe I should have her come to my apartment to see if that helps._

His stomach growled and his phone rang at the same time.

Steve answered the more urgent of the two, "Hello?"

"Hey, we're on our way back," Eleanore sounded breezy, possibly relieved.

"How did it go?"

"Oh, not bad. Fury was not pleased with the secrets, but he pretty much took it in stride. Maria was more angry, but I think she forgave me. I always felt guilty for not telling her. Oh," Eleanore's tone changed to serious. "The meeting with Dr. Rouldkin will happen on Sunday, because that's when they are letting him come to clean out his office."

"Sounds good," Steve let the slight taste of anger wash over him before storing it away to save for later. "So you're on good terms again?" The meeting must have gone okay, if Eleanore had also learned about other scheduling within it.

"Yeah, seems like it. SHIELD will probably watch me a little closer from now on, but Darren and Tony are pretty much immune, technologically speaking. Want me to pick up something for supper?"

"Sure, pizza sounds good," Steve suggested, suspecting Eleanore would talk more about it when she got home. Phone lines were probably not the most secure, even Stark ones.

"Okay, give me half an hour."

"See you then. Bye."

Steve hung up the phone and closed the laptop, noting Charlie had curled up on the couch. Steve went and sat next to him and began another new page, solely devoted to the sleeping cat. Charlie was a much simpler subject this way, and Steve had the outline done in no time. All that was left was the shading, for which Steve turned on a lamp behind the couch. By the time Eleanore opened the apartment door bearing two large pizzas, Steve had a close likeness of the cat that jumped down to greet her.

"Well hi baby kitty," her voice went up in pitch, and the cat responded with trills and purrs. "Do you like your new home?" Jet followed her inside, and Steve watched him walk past the cat and flop down on the living room floor.

"He seems pretty happy," Steve replied, taking one of the pizzas and setting it on the stove.

"I didn't know what kind you'd like, so I got one beef and one pepperoni." Eleanore said, opening the other box on the island.

"Both are great, thanks," Steve knew better by now than to ask what he owed her. He would just pay for their next meal before she could stop him.

"Great," was all she replied, grabbing a plate and a slice of pepperoni. She went and sat on the couch and the cat followed her, sniffing appreciatively.

"So how was the meeting, really?" Steve followed her to the couch and sat on the other end.

"It was okay, like I said," Eleanore took a bite and spoke around it. "But Darren and I got into an argument afterward."

"What? Why?" Steve was shocked. He'd never seen them do more than playfully banter.

"He thinks that I'm too open, taking Jet everywhere, working with SHIELD, telling you stuff." She shrugged nonchalantly. "SHIELD didn't tell us who leaked the info. We'll get over it."

"How?"

"By just accepting whatever happens. I'm not worried, just processing it."

"So that's why Darren isn't with you?" Steve had expected him to come back relieved, but the fight could have made them each want some space.

"That, and his dad wanted his help with setting up Stark Tower's energy thing."

"I see," Steve said, just to show he was listening. If SHIELD hadn't told them who leaked the information, everyone they knew was a suspect. He tried to think of anyone who would want to do such a thing, but as far as he knew, they had kept it very secret.

"I'm going to go to bed here soon," Eleanore informed him, pulling him from his thoughts. "I'm tired from everything today."

"Alright. I'll get out of your hair," Steve smiled and stood with his empty plate.

"Wait, I'll get you some pizza for later." She darted to the drawer that held the small storage bags and pulled out the largest ones. She put half of each pizza into them before handing them to Steve. "If I keep any more of it, it will just go bad."

Sometimes he felt like Eleanore's entire life revolved around a secret mission to feed people and heal their emotional trauma.

"Thanks," he said, vowing to buy another bag of chocolate for her. He headed for the door, "Have a good night."

"See you tomorrow sometime," Eleanore waved as he turned to go to his own apartment, then bent to pick up the cat who had tried to dart around her legs. Steve heard her door shut as he opened his own.

After grabbing another slice of pizza and putting the rest away, Steve was at a loss for something to do. He was not tired yet, and just sitting around the apartment or lying in bed would only invite bad memories to surface and keep him company. He spied his gym bag by the door and grabbed it before heading out. At least he could fight his memories with physical activity there.

The night was cool and quiet, at least on their street. Not far away Steve could hear traffic humming, sometimes roaring or screeching, and people talking to each other. The gym was only about a block and a half away from the apartment building, and Steve appreciated the convenience. Once SHIELD had learned he was going to use this facility, they had stocked it with heavier weights and specialized machines that Steve was challenged to max out.

Tonight, as he slid his card through and walked down the stairs to the basement, Steve decided to try out the new punching bags. One of the benefits of his post-serum body was that he had a natural fighting instinct, and a quick reaction time. He enjoyed punching bags, not because they presented difficulty, but because they were his favorite cardiovascular workout. Running was well and good, and he did it every morning, but hitting something that couldn't get hurt let out a lot of frustration. He'd become addicted to it, in a way, right after Bucky died. He'd spend hours punching through bags without gloves until his hands were torn and bleeding.

Steve hoped the more modern bags could take a hit.

He quickly found that, while they were easier on his hands than the old rucksacks, the modern punching bags' chains tended to break, sending the bags into the opposite wall. He would patch them up with a roll of silver tape he found and line them back up for another round. Once he got into a rhythm, though, he just worked through it until the bag broke.

As expected, memories of war, Bucky, and Peggy began to riot around in his head. The harder he hit the object in front of him, the more he could block them out, to an extent. Or maybe immerse himself in the memories more. He was sure Eleanore wouldn't find this entirely healthy either way. Steve was intent on getting as many punches in as he could, when yet another chain broke and sent the taped-up bag flying across the room in a shower of sand.

"Trouble sleeping?" Fury's voice broke his concentration, and Steve looked up to find the older man standing in the entryway.

"Slept for seventy years, Sir," Steve returned to hitting, but without conviction. "I think I've had my fill."

"Then you should be out… Celebrating. Seeing the world." Fury approached as he spoke, and Steve could see he was being tested again.

He paused for a moment, and looked Fury over. Old enough for wisdom, young enough to fight. Intelligent. Steve could see why people would find him intimidating. But Steve was also used to people like this. He stopped hitting the bag and walked over to his equipment, unwrapping his hands. He didn't trust Fury, but SHIELD was Peggy's work.

"When I went under, the world was at war. I wake up, they say we won. They didn't say what we lost." _6 million people in Germany alone. More in Russia._ Steve had been shocked when Eleanore told him about the Holocaust and Stalin's killing sprees. It was one of the few times she'd actually used her powers to calm him down. He didn't like to think about his reaction, but the faces of the children he'd seen back then in all those countries kept popping into his head. _They died while I was still fighting._ And that wasn't even including the wars fought while he was trapped in the ice. Fury could call it sleeping if he wanted to, but in Steve's mind he had been letting everyone down.

"We've made some mistakes along the way," Fury admitted quietly. "Some very recently."

Steve sized him up again, "You here with a mission, Sir?"

"I am."

"Trying to get me back in the world?"

"Trying to save it." Fury handed him a SHIELD folder, which Steve took and opened.

"Hydra's secret weapon." Memories again, of all the fights over this simple cube. True, it had swallowed Schmidt and burned a hole in the Valkyrie, but it was hardly worth anyone's life, in Steve's opinion.

"Howard Stark fished that out of the ocean when he was looking for you. He thought— well — we think that the Tesseract could be the key to unlimited, sustainable energy. That's something the world sorely needs."

Steve closed the folder and handed it back. "Who took it from you?"

"He's called Loki. He's… not from around here." Fury gave him a piercing look, and Steve understood. _Alien._ "The world has gotten even stranger than you know."

"At this point I doubt anything would surprise me," Steve picked up his gear bag, preparing to leave.

"Ten bucks says you're wrong," Fury challenged. Then, more seriously, "There's a debriefing packet waiting for you back at your apartment." Steve lifted one of the old, taped punching bags to put it away as he walked out the door.

"Is there anything you can tell us about the Tesseract that we ought to know now?" Fury called after him.

 _It will cause death again, just like before._ "You should have left it in the ocean."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: It's Avengers time! Thank you to everyone who reads this far into the story. A personal tidbit: In the punching bag scene, Steve taught me the true meaning of 'dat ass. Please leave as many reviews as you can, I love hearing your thoughts on the story so far!
> 
> Thanks again,
> 
> PettyWhiteRose


	18. Chapter 18

On his way back to his apartment, Steve caught himself wondering whether Eleanore had discussed his operational status with Fury. Probably not. She would have mentioned it, along with the possibility of someone offering him a mission at— he checked his watch— three o'clock in the morning. I lost track of time. He considered texting her the news, but it might wake her up. He'd look at the debriefing packet first to get a sense of his mission. And he'd get a shower.

As he reached the top of the stairs, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and he turned to find a man in a nondescript, black suit standing outside his door. Steve stopped for a moment, until he saw the SHIELD logo emblazoned on the box he carried. The man just looked at him, but didn't say anything.

Steve walked toward the door and held out his hand, "Steve Rogers."

"I know," the man replied quickly, shaking his hand vigorously. "Phil Coulson, Agent of SHIELD. It's an honor, sir."

"Nice to meet you," Steve replied amiably, a little uncomfortable with the way Coulson was staring at him. "Um, do you want to come inside? Or should we go now?"

"Oh, you have time to get ready," Coulson assured him, following him into the dark apartment. Steve flicked on the kitchen lights to let the agent see where he was going.

"Excuse me, I'll just put this stuff away," Steve said politely. "Have a seat wherever you want."

"Nice place," Coulson called from the couch, where he settled on the edge of the cushion.

"Thanks," Steve replied, heading into his bedroom and picking up a plaid shirt, white T-shirt, slacks, underwear, and socks from their respective places in his closet. He grabbed a belt off the hook on his door, and strode back into the living room. "I'll be quick, then we can get going," he promised, heading into the bathroom. He stopped, remembering his manners. "Can I get you anything? Water?"

"I'm good, thanks," Coulson smiled at him, leaning his elbows on his knees.

Steve nodded and shut the bathroom door, stripping and turning on the water as quickly as he could. There was something to be said for his pre-serum body: it was easier to wash. He had just lathered up with the spicy-smelling soap when he heard a knock on his door.

"Steve? It's Elle." The door clicked as she opened it, and she knocked on the bathroom door.

"I can hear you," he called, hurriedly rinsing off. "Just a minute."

"Oh, hey Phil," Eleanore's voice contained a hint of surprise. Steve worried for a moment that news of her alien acquaintances would make things tense for other SHIELD members, but he figured she could handle herself.

Her voice faded under the stream of water as she walked away from the bathroom. Steve only caught snatches of conversation, but they sounded calm enough. _"…already?" "I was going to…" "have a ride…"_ None of it made sense, but he expected to catch up when he got out there.

Steve turned off the water and grabbed one of his new towels from the rack on the door. These things were soft, but they left fuzz all over him, especially in his hair. Eleanore had said it would wear off after a wash or two. Still, it cost him time as he combed the stuff from his hair and sloughed it from his skin. Then he put on deodorant— a greatly improved formula compared to the old stuff— and shaved, because he didn't know when he'd get another chance to do so. He got dressed in the steamy bathroom, which made his clothes stick to his skin, and checked himself over once more in the mirror before opening the door and walking out into the hum of conversation.

Both Eleanore and Coulson stopped talking and looked up at him as he walked out, Elle with a smile, Coulson with a strange mixture of pride and tension. Elle was still in the overly large T-shirt and shorts that she used for pajamas, and her feet were still bare. She must have rushed over as soon as someone alerted her to the mission. She had a glass of water in her hand— one of Steve's— and she was seated at the island on the barstool facing the living room.

"Good morning," she greeted him, hopping off her perch.

"Hey," he said, wondering if she would be able to tell he hadn't gotten any sleep.

"Ready for a debriefing?"

"Sure," Steve looked to Coulson, who stood and cleared his throat.

"Actually, we'll have to talk on the plane. I just received word that we're needed ASAP." He tapped his ear, and Steve saw a tiny wire wrapped around it that must be a part of a headset. "Elle, we'll see you there later?"

"Yep, I'll be there in a couple of hours," she promised, moving into the kitchen. She opened the cupboard above the sink and retrieved protein and granola bars, before reaching into the pantry and taking out a few bottles of water. Then she stepped around a confused Steve and lifted a duffel bag from behind the island. "I got your go-bag out of your room, and here's some food for the road." She handed the bag to him and zipped the bars and water inside. "Don't forget to eat."

"I won't," Steve promised, wondering if he should be embarrassed being bossed around in front of Coulson. Eleanore meant it well, though, so he shrugged it off. "Thank you."

"Have a fun flight," she smiled up at him and headed for the door. "See ya, Phil."

"Bye," Coulson waved, grinning at her as the door shut. They stood in silence for a moment before Coulson shook his head and approached Steve. "I have a car outside waiting to take us to the airport."

"Alright," Steve nodded, and turned off the light as he followed Coulson out the door and locked it behind them.

Their drive was short and quiet in the sleek black car. Coulson drove, and Steve sat shotgun. They went to a local airport, and drove right onto the tarmac, where a small plane that somewhat reminded Steve of the Valkyrie was waiting. Steve followed Coulson on board and took a seat as the ramp-like door shut behind them. The sun was just coming up as the plane took off, heading up and East, out over the ocean.

The water gave Steve unwanted memories, so he focused on the tablet Coulson handed him instead, and polished off a protein bar. The agent sat at a communications platform, talking to someone Steve couldn't hear over the distance between them. Once they were out over the ocean, Coulson hung up the headset he was using and walked over to Steve.

Wanting to avoid more awkward silence, Steve motioned with his tablet and confirmed the facts. "So this Dr. Banner was trying to replicate the serum they used on me?" The green monster rampaging on the screen only vaguely reminded Steve of Red Skull. At least this guy could turn back to 'normal'.

"A lot of people were," Coulson replied, shrugging. "You were the world's first super hero." He paused, and Steve didn't look up from the tablet. "Banner thought gamma radiation might hold the key to unlocking Erskine's original formula."

"Didn't really go his way, did it?" Steve asked ruefully. According to the file, Banner tried to keep the beast contained as much as possible to avoid harming any innocents. Unfortunately, it relied on his emotions. Steve wondered if Elle would be called in if the Hulk lost control.

"Not so much," Coulson confirmed. "When he's not that thing, though, guy's like a… Steven Hawking."

Steve glanced up, unsure of the reference.

Coulson saw it and shook his head. "He's like a… smart person." He looked away, and Steve nodded politely.

"I gotta say— it's an honor to meet you. Officially." Coulson seemed so excited, so Steve looked up and smiled encouragingly. "I sort of met you," he continued, "I mean, I watched you while you were sleeping."

 _He probably didn't want to say that…_ Steve stopped making eye contact and hid an uncomfortable smile as he got out of his seat.

"I mean… I was present. While you were… unconscious. From the ice." Coulson amended, and Steve walked to the front of the plane and leaned an arm on the door frame. The water was relatively calm, and no ice in sight.

"You know it's really just a— just a huge honor to have you on board." Agent Coulson followed him and mimicked his stance. _"It's automatic, people don't realize they do it. Communication Accommodation."_ Eleanore's voice rang through his mind form a conversation about the theory she was studying, and he bit back another smile.

"Well, I hope I'm the man for the job." Steve noted how low they were flying— maybe a hundred feet above the ocean. He wondered if the plan was designed specifically for this height. If Darren were here, he'd be explaining things like that.

"Oh you are. Absolutely." Coulson said with conviction. "Uh, we made some… modifications to the uniform," he smiled proudly. "I had a little design input."

"Uniform?" Steve asked. "Aren't the stars and stripes a little…" he shrugged, "old fashioned?"

Coulson winced slightly, "Everything that happening? The things that are about to come to light? People might just need a little old fashioned."

Steve felt the serious implication of Coulson's words, and looked out the window again, thinking. He knew that agencies like SHIELD and the CIA, even the military kept secrets from the general population. They were meant to protect the civilians and keep them from panic, and to keep the agents and soldiers who went out on secret missions safe. Steve's own missions had never been released until months afterward, and with almost no photographic evidence. They just replayed the same clips over in a different order for the propaganda films.

Steve firmly believed in sheltering everyone possible from the death and blood and killing he'd seen. He knew Eleanore in particular wanted to test her skills in the field, but Steve had been relieved when she'd mentioned dealing with SHIELD's training program first. He'd been thrown into battle with minimal realistic training, and some of the sights still kept him up at night, memories and flashbacks running rampant in the dark. No one told you what it was like to kill another person, and Steve would be hard-pressed to explain it himself. When he thought about it, all that came to mind was their splayed bodies and sightless eyes. And the blood.

Steve shook his head to clear his mind and noted a speck on the horizon.

"We're coming up on the ship," Coulson remarked, and Steve saw a massive aircraft carrier swim into shape through the waves and sunlight. The plane slowed and Steve returned to his seat, gripping the armrest tightly as they landed. To his relief, he hadn't left any finger indentations behind when he stood up.

The ramp door opened, and Steve followed Coulson out as the agent gave orders to the deck crew about his gear. A professional, petite woman with flaming red hair met them as they descended.

"Agent Romanov," Coulson greeted her, "This is Captain Rogers."

"Ma'am," Steve nodded to her, standing up straight.

"Hi," she responded disinterestedly, turning to Coulson. "They need you on the bridge. They're starting the face trace."

"See you there," Coulson said, and jogged quickly away. Steve wondered what a face-trace was, and whether he was supposed to follow Romanov or the agent fading rapidly in the distance.

"There was quite the buzz around here, finding you in the ice." Romanov spoke to him, and Steve assumed he was supposed to stay with her. "Thought Coulson was gonna swoon." They began walking toward the railing on the edge of the deck. "Did he ask you to sign his Captain America trading cards yet?" She wore a ghost of a smile.

"Trading cards?" Elle had never mentioned these, and Steve thought they must have come out after he went in the ice.

"They're vintage. He'd very proud."

Looking ahead, Steve recognized the human face of Bruce Banner from the debriefing packet. The man was stumbling around, trying to stay out of everyone's way as he navigated around a Harrier jet.

"Dr. Banner," Steve called, bringing the man's attention to him.

"Oh yeah, hi," Banner shook his outstretched hand with an uncomfortable smile and looked Steve up and down. "They told me you'd be coming."

"Word is you can find the cube," Steve switched into his most friendly attitude because the man seemed distracted and ill at ease.

"Is that the only word on me?" Banner glanced around nervously. Steve could see how uneasy he was, and suspected meeting new people only made the man think of someone else he could harm if things went wrong.

"The only word I care about," he assured Banner, and the other man nodded, reevaluating him.

"It must be strange for you… all this." Banner gestured around at the ship. Steve could tell he was trying to be more cordial.

"Well, this is actually kind of familiar," he replied, noting the troops running around the deck, the pilots checking their planes and… strapping them down.

"Gentlemen," Romanov intervened, walking up beside them. "You might wanna step inside in a minute. It's gonna get a little hard to breathe." A siren began sounding, and Steve heard the water around the ship begin to churn.

"Is this a submarine?" he asked incredulously, walking with Banner to look over the railing.

"Really. They want me in a submerged, pressurized metal container?" Banner asked scornfully, and Steve had to agree with his caution.

Romanov said nothing as they peered over the side of the ship. The water was agitated all right, but something was rising out of it. Steve suddenly recognized a jet engine's propellers, only put on sideways. _A hovercraft?!_ The ship began to rise, and the wind got more intense. Steve stepped back, not wanting to pitch into the propellers to a quick, sausage death.

"Oh no, this is _much_ worse." Banner commented, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. They both turned to head inside, and Steve noted the crew were donning oxygen helmets and sealing the planted to the deck of the now-airborne carrier.

Romanov led them inside, and up several levels to the main deck. They stepped into organized chaos, with people running around and shouting things about the ship to each other as they examined computer screens full of readouts. Fury was standing at the helm looking over everyone, and when Steve saw him he remembered their bet from the night before.

"We're at level, sir." Agent Hill's voice rang through the room, and Steve saw her turn to Fury.

"Good. Let's vanish," the older man replied. Steve didn't see what happened, but he assumed they masked the ship so that people on the ground couldn't see it.

"Gentlemen," Fury greeted them, turning and walking toward the large conference table in the center of the room. Steve fished his money out of his pocket and gave Fury ten dollars before moving to examine the sets of translucent monitors and the view of the clouds beyond.

"Doctor, thank you for coming," Steve heard Fury's voice behind him, and he descended to the next level, where all the computers and people running around were.

"Thanks for asking nicely," Banner replied, and Steve detected sarcasm. "So, uh, how long am I staying?"

"Once we get our hands on the Tesseract, you're in the plane," Fury assured him.

"Where are we with that?" Banner asked, and Steve noticed Coulson walking around a hub of computers not unlike the ones Darren had shown him at SHIELD.

"We're sweeping every wirelessly accessible camera on the planet." Coulson sounded proud. "Cell phone, laptops… If it's connected to the Internet, it's eyes and ears for us."

"That's still not gonna find him in time," Romanov commented from where she knelt by a screen.

"You have to narrow your field," Banner said thoughtfully. "How many spectrometers do you have access to?"

"How many are there?" Fury asked, and Steve felt himself getting lost already.

"Call every lab you know." Banner removed his jacket, getting down to business. "Tell them to put the spectrometers on the roof and calibrate them for gamma rays. I'll rough out a tracking algorithm— basic cluster recognition. At least we could rule out a few places." Fury nodded, though Steve suspected he didn't understand most of what Banner had just said. "Do you have somewhere for me to work?"

"Agent Romanov, would you show Dr. Banner to his laboratory, please?" Fury asked.

Romanov nodded and walked up the stairs, gesturing for Banner to follow her. "You're gonna love it, doc. We've got all the toys."

"Agent Coulson," Fury called, "would you show Captain Rogers to his room?"

"Of course," Coulson said, and Steve followed him out of the room and down a hallway to the left. They went down a flight of stairs to another hall with sliding panel doors lining each side.

"This is your room," Coulson brought them up short to a door numbered _1776_. "They brought your luggage from the plane. It open to your keycard."

"Thanks," Steve said, sliding the card from his pocket and waving it in front of the red light on the panel, which flashed to green as the door slid open. It was a small room with a bunk built into the wall, a tiny desk, and some shelves. Steve's bag had been placed just under the window.

"You can get some rest for now, if you want." Coulson stood outside the door, as Steve took off his jacket and laid it across the back of the chair.

"I'm good for now," he said, and he was. He felt plenty awake and ready for action. What he wanted to do was figure out the geography of the ship, and maybe learn a little of how it worked.

"Okay, well I have to go to the observation deck. Want to come?" Coulson sounded nonchalant. Steve considered it for a moment. On the one hand, he wanted to explore the ship, but on the other hand he wanted to be available in case he was needed. Besides, it wouldn't hurt him to get to know more agents, since he'd be working with them in the future.

"Sure," he agreed, and followed Coulson back to the room of blinking screens and talking people.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: No real action yet, but it's coming. Please leave reviews to let me know how you're all liking hte story so far!
> 
> Thanks for reading,
> 
> PettyWhiteRose


	19. Chapter 19

The observation deck served its purpose. Steve watched the clouds wisp by out the window, the implementation of Dr. Banner's new algorithm, and the ship's statistics in turn. For the most part, he understood what he saw. The clouds were ever-changing, and Steve remembered Eleanore's hobby of weather observation, which made more sense now that he knew she and Jet were so affected by it. The ship had four engines, and was running not on petroleum fuel, but on some type of sustainable energy source. Steve didn't want to ask the technicians about it, so he filed it away to bring up to Darren if he got the chance. Dr. Banner's work caused a flurry of excitement as desks were reassigned and new agents were brought in to process the data. He understood the use of the tracking algorithm, but Steve suspected it would take him years of study to grasp the concepts behind creating it.

Trying to avoid bumping into people, Steve made his way over to where Coulson stood, observing the face-tracing cluster of desks.

"Any questions?" the agent asked amiably.

Steve thought for a moment. "How did SHIELD find about about Darren and Jet?"

Coulson frowned, and Steve thought he was going to be asked to mind his own business. Then the agent sighed, "We received an anonymous tip. It was from a burn phone— sorry, a phone that you buy and throw away— and we're still investigating it."

"What do you know?" If the call was from someone outside SHIELD, Darren and Jet could be in danger.

"Well, the person who called used a voice scrambling device, and all they said was 'Stark's son and the dog are from another world,' which only made sense because of recent events." Coulson shrugged, "We put the Starks and Eleanore on high alert, and we're watching them to keep them safe."

Steve gazed out the window, thinking. "Is there anything I can do?"

Coulson grinned slightly, "Let us know if anyone suspicious starts hanging around, or if you think someone might be watching you. You know, other than us."

"Alright," Steve answered, thinking back through the past week to see if anything stood out. Coulson stood quietly beside him, watching his agents.

"Do you think— would you mind… Never mind." Coulson spoke up suddenly, turning to Steve, then looking away and shaking his head.

"What is it?" Steve asked, confused.

"Could you sign my Captain America trading cards?"

"Oh, sure." Steve recalled Romanov hinting at this possibility. He didn't mind. He hadn't signed anything for anyone, except official documents, since he'd stopped stage acting and punching out Hitler.

"I mean… If it's not too much trouble," Coulson amended, and Steve could feel his hope and anticipation without Eleanore's powers.

"No, it's… fine." He assured him.

Coulson was quiet for a moment, looking away. Then, "It's a vintage set. Took me a couple of years to collect them all."

Steve didn't react, staring ahead at a monitor on the far side of the station.

"Near mint," Coulson continued. "Slight boxing around the edges, but—"

"Got a hit," a bald agent turned from his computer, looking to Coulson. "67% match. Wait, cross match 79%."

Coulson strode over to peer at the monitors. "Location?"

"Stuttgart Germany, 28 Konigstrasse… He's not exactly hiding." Steve recognized Loki from the debriefing dossier, and noted he was dressed in formal human clothes and surrounded by similarly dressed people. _An event?_

"Captain," Fury's voice rang through the room, and Steve turned to meet his eye. "Gear up."

Steve nodded and departed, taking his cue from an agent whose name he didn't know and following her out of the room. She led him silently through a hall, down several flights of stairs, and pointed him to a door. His keycard gave him access, and he stepped through to find his new uniform. It was much like the old one, but more streamlined and modern-looking, taking after the styles of the day. The helmet still bore wings, the chest a star, and the belt had room for his gear. To the sides of the display case rested numerous pistols like the ones he'd used in the war, along with various other new weaponry. Steve ignored these, for the most part, as he dressed. Donning the uniform was familiar, and even the buckles and latches were placed in a similar order. Maybe Coulson had suggested that.

Steve could feel his muscles tighten with anticipation as he put on the helmet and flexed to get a feel for the suit. It was perfect. Made for him. He took a deep breath, silently praying that a 93 year-old, outdated, unfrozen soldier would be enough to accomplish the tasks ahead. He just didn't want to let anyone down.

In the end, Steve took only his shield and his belt, which he found to be filled with first aid supplies. _Nice touch_. After making a note of where everything was, he squared his shoulders, became Captain America, and stepped out of the room.

"Captain Rogers," Romanov was waiting for him, dressed all in black with two guns at her hips and a serious expression. "I'm your ride."

"Lead the way," Steve fell in step behind her as she led him down below deck level to a hangar full of jets like the one he'd come in on. They boarded the waiting craft without a word, and Steve silently chose his seat as Romanov moved to the front of the plane to pilot.

The flight was short, and Steve watched the developments unfold from the security cameras that SHIELD had broken into— 'hacked' was the term Eleanore and Darren had used. He saw Loki walking around, blending into the people who milled about, but standing apart from the sociable, talking crowd. Then Loki climbed the stairs and gazed over the railing. Steve could tell he was scoping the place out and waiting for… something. There was anticipation in his body language. Then, as though taking a cue, Loki cocked his head, froze his expressions, and straightened his shoulders, walking quickly but regally down the stairs.

He knocked out a guard with one hit from his staff and Steve tensed, reading combat experience in every move. Loki manhandled and flipped the speaker onto the ornate table, pulling a tool from his coat and stabbing the man in the eye with cold efficiency. Steve could see him distancing himself, enjoying the chaos, but ignoring the task at hand.

"We're almost there, Cap." Romanov called over the back of her seat.

Steve nodded and stood, pulling a parachute from the wall. "Just get me close enough for surprise."

Out the front window the lights of Stuttgart flashed past until the tall, white building loomed ahead. There was a crowd in front of it, and as Steve watched, he saw them still and kneel, and Loki moved in among them, speaking.

Steve jumped from the plane and opened his chute, willing it to stay quiet as he made a quick descent. A man stood up from the crowd and spoke, and Loki's attitude changed from pleased poise to vengeful anger. He pointed his scepter at the man. Steve released himself from the parachute and raised his shield.

The blast was not very forceful, but it would have killed the older man, had it not hit the shield and bounced back to knock Loki flat. Steve stood, squaring himself to present more of a target.

"You know," he said, trying to draw Loki's attention, "the last time I was in Germany and saw a man standing above everybody else… we ended up disagreeing." His opponent wouldn't get the reference, but Steve felt good about the quip.

"The soldier," Loki straightened and smiled disdainfully. "The man out of time."

"I'm not the one who's out of time." Steve heard the plane hover to a stop behind him, and the click of artillery loading.

"Loki, drop the weapon and stand down." Romanov's voice ordered dispassionately over the loudspeaker. The crowd began dispersing, people running away as quickly and quietly as they could.

Steve expected the shot from the scepter, which Romanov dodged, and he threw his shield to prevent another one, running forward and catching Loki off guard with a punch to the jaw… which he quickly recovered from. Steve took a hit to the side that avoided any bones, and rolled across the courtyard, coming to rest next to a grassy platform. _Tougher than I thought._ He threw his shield again, but Loki batted it aside easily and dodged swipe after swipe until Steve hit him in the kidney. Even then, Loki's only reaction was to knock him across to the other side of the courtyard.

Steve was getting up when he caught sight of a boot and felt something metal hit his helmet.

"Kneel," Loki snarled.

Steve pushed the scepter away and launched a roundhouse kick that actually hit home, causing Loki to stumble back. "Not today."

Loki wrestled with him and put him in a choke hold before tossing him away like a sack of laundry. Then some sort of noisy music started coming out of the plane, and Steve rolled to look up, prepared for another attack. Loki looked confused as well.

A red and gold man flew out of the sky, shooting a blast at Loki that knocked him down, and landing crouched in a crater of bricks.

"Make a move, Reindeer Games," he said, the obnoxious music fading to a close.

Steve picked up his shield and walked to the man's side, understanding dawning as cocky attitude and the witty banter struck a familiar chord. Loki put up his hands and glowed gold for a moment, armor fading until he was clothed in basic leathers.

"Good move," said the man in the suit, lowering his guns.

"Mr. Stark," Steve greeted him, trying to catch his breath.

"Captain," Stark replied, still watching Loki.

Romanov landed the plane on the plaza, and Loki accepted his handcuffs and boarded without a fuss. They took off and headed out over the Alps, which shone in the moonlight.

Steve watched them pass for a while before turning to Stark, who had folded back his helmet.

"I don't like it," he said, glancing back at the pensive prisoner.

"What, Rock of Ages giving up so easily?" Stark asked. Steve assumed there was a reference in there that he didn't understand.

"I don't remember it being that easy," Steve protested. "This guy packs a wallop."

"Eh, still, you are pretty spry for an older fellow." Steve looked at Stark, who met his eyes. "What's you thing, pilates?"

"What?" Steve was already getting annoyed with Stark's arrogant attitude, and with himself for not understanding the references.

"It's like calisthenics," Stark explained, looking away. "You might have missed some things, you know, doing time as a.. Capsicle."

Steve was unamused, even though he got the joke. "Fury didn't tell me he was calling you in."

"Yeah, well, there's a lot of things Fury doesn't tell you." Stark looked at him, challenging. Thunder rolled through the clouds behind him.

"Where is this coming from?" Romanov muttered, and Steve noticed the severity of the storm quickly building. He looked back at Loki, who was gazing nervously at the rain that splatted on the windows.

"What's the matter?" Steve asked. "Scared of a little lighting?"

"I'm not overly fond of what follows," Loki retorted, barely sparing him a glance.

Steve was trying to puzzle out what he meant when the jet shuddered violently. Stark reached for his helmet, and Steve dove for his shield, pulling his mask up. Steve saw Stark hit a switch on the wall and the ramp descended, letting the howling wind into the plane.

"What are you doing?" Steve shouted, stopping short as a blond man swung into the jet and knocked Stark back on top of him. When Steve looked up again, both the man and Loki were gone.

Stark sighed, "Now there's that guy."

"Another Asgardian," Romanov shouting, fighting for control of the plane.

"That guy's a friendly?" Steve asked, trying to figure out what had just happened.

"It doesn't matter," Stark retorted. "If he frees Loki or kills him, the Tesseract's lost." He turned and walked toward the hatch.

"Stark, we need a plan of attack," Steve protested, knowing it would probably do no good.

"I have a plan," Stark glanced back, "attack." With that, he leapt away into the darkness.

Steve sighed, reaching for another parachute and quickly strapping himself in. _When did strategy go out of style?_

"I'd sit this one out, Cap." Romanov suggested, flipping more switches on the control board.

"I don't see how I can." Steve finished buckling and reached for his shield.

"These guys come from legend; they're basically gods," she tried to convince him, but Steve wasn't having it.

"There's only one god, Ma'am." Steve walked toward the door. "And I'm pretty sure he doesn't dress like that." He jumped into the roiling wind, looking for Stark and Loki, and he let the clouds claim him for their own.

 


	20. Chapter 20

As he fell, Steve caught sight of Stark smashing Thor into a mountain, and then both of them crashing into the forest below. He angled his descent to land near them, but not in the middle of the ongoing battle. Lightning flashed and crackled, and Steve saw Stark's suit light up like a lamp before he blasted Thor across the clearing. Thor retaliated, and the two of them started close-quarters combat pretty evenly matched.

Steve landed on a felled tree that stuck up at an angle and threw his shield to disrupt the fight.

"Hey!" he shouted, and both men looked up at him. "…That's enough," was all that came to mind, now that he had their attention. He jumped out of the tree, hoping to think of something on the way down. _Talking him down might work._ "Now I don't know what you plan on doing here—" he started.

"I've come here to put an end to Loki's schemes!" the blond man exclaimed.

"Then prove it," Steve challenged. "Put that hammer down."

"Uh, yeah, no! Bad call!" Stark warned. "He loves his hamm—" he was cut off as the blond man hit him and he flew back into the forest.

"You want me to put the hammer down?!" the armored man exclaimed, jumping high into the air and swinging his hammer in a powerful arc.

 _Why do I get myself into this stuff?_ Steve thought, bringing up his shield just in time to save his head.

The resulting collision produced a bell-like peal that created a crater of destruction in the forest. Steve stood stiffly, ears ringing, trying not to breathe in the dust.

"Are we done here?" he asked, and received answering glares from both Stark and the blond warrior.

They retrieved Loki from the mountaintop where he'd observed the fight. Steve noted his smug expression, but the dark haired man said nothing as they loaded him into the jet and completed their journey to SHIELD's helicarrier.

On the way, the blond man introduced himself, quietly, as Thor Odinson. Loki stiffened upon hearing the name, and Thor explained they were brothers, and he'd come to bring Loki home.

"I apologize for my intrusion," he stated loudly as they landed and departed from one aircraft to another. "But I wanted to settle this matter quickly."

Steve noticed Loki looking away toward the horizon, where the sun was setting. He seemed to be on edge, waiting for something else to happen.

"Captain," Coulson greeted him, followed by ten younger agents, all with guns at their sides. "Thor, Mr. Stark. We're here to escort Loki to a holding cell."

Steve just nodded and headed back into the main viewing platform to see what new information they'd come up with. Thor and Romanov walked with him in silence until they left the elevator.

"Rogers," Romanov said, causing Steve to turn back and appraise her. She jerked her head toward one of the many sliding doors in the hallway leading to the control room. "In here."

"Sure," Steve followed her in, Thor on his heels. They entered a shiny gray room with a semi-opaque table that had flashing screens at each seat. It overlooked the control deck, separated from it by a flight of stairs and beams on each side. Fury's console was right in front of the table, flashing intermittently. Banner was already there, standing behind one of the chairs and looking thoughtfully ahead.

"Settle in for show, boys," Romanov beckoned, and seated herself a couple of seats away from Banner. Steve went to the other side of the table and sat, watching as the screen flared to life. It showed an image of Loki being led into a large, clear cell set in the middle of an empty room. He looked around, thoughtfully calm. Steve saw a hint of crafty planning behind his eyes before it was hidden in interest as Fury walked up to a small control panel outside the enclosure.

"In case it's unclear," he said, not looking at Loki, and pressing buttons on the board in front of him. "You try to escape… You so much as scratch that glass…" he moved a small box up and pressed a button inside it. A hatch opened below the cell, admitting a howling vortex of wind. Loki walked up to the edge to gaze into the dark abyss.

"Thirty thousand feet, straight down, in a steel trap." Fury finished, looking intensely pleased with himself. "You get how that works?" He shut the hatch and the room was quiet again. "Ant. Boot."

Loki laughed, stepping back from the perimeter. "It's an impressive cage," he raised his hands in a 'you got me' gesture. "Not built, I think, for me."

"Built for something a lot _stronger_ than you," Fury jabbed.

"Oh, I've heard," Loki turned and looked directly into the camera. "The mindless beast. Makes play he's still a man."

Steve saw Romanov looking apologetically at Banner, who seemed unbothered by the taunt.

"How desperate are you," Loki continued, his voice soft and cultured. Steve wasn't fooled, but still, Loki sounded so calm. Like he was still in control. "You call on such lost creatures to defend you."

"How desperate am I?" Fury asked in a low voice. "You threaten my world with war, you steal a force you can't hope to control. You talk about peace, and you kill 'cause it's fun." He walked up to the glass as he spoke, every movement intense. "You have made me _very_ desperate. You might not be glad that you did."

"Oh," Loki scoffed at him. "It burns you to have come so close. To have the Tesseract. To have power. _Unlimited_ power. And for what?" Loki smiled knowingly. It gave Steve a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Loki looked into the camera again, as if sharing a joke with the observers. "A warm light for all mankind to share?" He turned back to Fury, and his attitude changed to scorn. "And then to be reminded what _real_ power is."

Fury just stared at Loki for a moment before grinning slightly and walking away. "Well, let me know if 'real power' wants a magazine or something."

Loki said nothing to reply, instead turning and walking back toward the camera, stopping a few feet away to stare menacingly into it. The screen in front of Steve closed with a hum.

"He really grows on you, doesn't he?" Banner asked sarcastically, looking to Steve with a small smile.

Steve wanted to get down to business, not make small talk. People had died in Stuttgart, and in the base when Loki had attacked it. Preventing more casualties was priority number one.

"Loki's gonna drag this out," he stated, looking around the room and settling on the blond demigod brooding at the end of the table. "So. Thor. What's his play?"

"He has an army called the Chitauri," Thor replied somberly. "They're not of Asgard, nor any world known. He means to lead them against your people." He paused and looked seriously at Romanov. "They will win him the Earth. In return, I suspect, for the Tesseract."

"An army," Steve said, noting Agent Hill listening in the background. "From outer space." He looked around at the others, who seemed to take it in stride. _I guess things have only gotten weirder since I was invented._ Steve was already feeling exhausted by this mission. _Why didn't Howard leave the damn cube in the ocean with me?_

"So he's building another portal," Banner inferred. "That's what he needs Eric Selvig for."

"Selvig?" Thor asked, his attention drawn to Banner for the first time.

"He's an astrophysicist," Banner explained.

"He's a friend," Thor replied, looking troubled.

"Loki has him under some kind of spell," Romanov interjected, drawing in a breath. "Along with one of ours."

Steve saw her concern, but ignored it for the moment. "I want to know why Loki let us take him. He's not leading an army from here."

"I don't think we should be focusing on Loki," Banner commented, speaking mostly to Steve. "That guy's brain is a bag full of cats. You can smell crazy on him.

"Have care how you speak," Thor warned. "Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard, and he is my brother." Steve understood the family ties of protectiveness Thor must feel. If Bucky had done something like this, Steve would be looking to save him too.

"He killed eighty people in two days," Romanov pointed out, her voice flat with annoyance.

"He's adopted," Thor amended awkwardly. A short silence followed in which Steve caught a flash of movement from the door. Stark and Coulson were making their way into the room, Eleanore and Darren close behind them. The couple caught Steve's eye at the same time and smiled in greeting, and he nodded back.

"I think it's about the mechanics," Banner theorized, unaware of the approaching entourage. "Iridium. What do they need the iridium for?"

"It's a stabilizing agent," Tony Stark answered, strutting into the room. Steve was starting to resent the man, and the lack of respect he held for others. Stark turned his attention back to Coulson for a moment, muttering something about flying to Malibu for lunch.

Coulson politely nodded and gestured back to the group at the meeting table, breaking off from Stark and going to stand behind Steve.

Eleanore and Darren each took seats, Eleanore next to Romanov, with whom she got into a whispered conversation. Darren sat next to Eleanore, nodding to Hill and Dr. Banner.

"Means: the portal won't collapse on itself like it did at SHIELD." Tony walked up to Thor, "No hard feelings, Point Break. You got a mean swing." Thor looked offended as Tony tapped his arm lightly and continued. "Also means the portal can open as wide and stay open as long as Loki wants." Stark came to rest in front of Fury's display panels. "Uh, raise the mizzenmast. Jib the top sails." The agents at the control panels looked up at him in confusion.

"That man is playing Galaga," he called suddenly, pointing to a young man in the middle of a row. Steve looked around in confusion, wondering what Galaga was, and if it was dangerous. Eleanore smiled at him and rolled her eyes, so he assumed it was safe. "Thought we wouldn't notice. But we did."

Stark put his hand over his eye, and turned his attention to the screens in front of him. "How does Fury even see these?"

"He turns," Hill explained, unamused.

"Sounds exhausting." Stark started fiddling with the controls. He was annoying Steve more and more with his constant banter. "The rest of the raw materials, Barton can get his hands on pretty easily. Only major component he still needs is a power source of high energy density. Something to…" he snapped and clapped his hands together, "kick start the cube."

"When did you become an expert in thermonuclear astrophysics?" Hill asked suspiciously.

"Last night," Stark replied, and Steve saw Darren nod. "The packet. Selvig's notes. The Extraction Theory papers?" he looked around. "Am I the only one who did the reading?"

Steve was tired of the jabbering scientist. "Does Loki need any particular kind of power source?" he asked, hoping that would bring them to a main point.

"He'd have to heat the cube to one hundred and twenty million Kelvin just to break through the cooling barrier." Banner was trying to explain it to him, Steve could tell, but only the numbers in that sentence made sense to him. He looked at Eleanore who mouthed " _Tell you later,"_ and pointed her thumb at Darren. He wondered if that meant that Darren had explained it to her, or that she would ask him to explain it to both of them.

"Unless," Stark rebutted, "Selvig has figured out how to stabilize the quantum tunnel effect."

"Well, if he could do that, he could achieve heavy ion fusion at any reactor on the planet," Banner said, and it seemed skeptical. Steve couldn't tell what they were saying. Darren and Eleanore seemed focused, though.

"Finally," Stark said, sounding relieved. "Someone who speaks English."

"Is that what just happened?" Steve asked, looking around at everyone else. Romanov was impassive as ever, and Thor looked like the conversation had sailed over his head.

Stark was shaking Banner's hand and greeting him scientifically. "It's good to meet you, Dr. Banner," he said, seeming to mean it. "You work on anti-electron collisions is unparalleled. And I'm a huge fan of the way you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage monster." Steve couldn't tell what was sarcasm and what wasn't.

Banner looked similarly confused. "Thanks."

"Dr. Banner is only here to track the cube," Fury interjected, looking pointedly at Stark. "I was hoping you might join him."

Finally, Steve had an idea that might help. "I'd start with that stick of his," he said, turning to the scientists and back to Fury. "It may look magical, but it works an awful lot like a Hydra weapon."

"I don't know about that," Fury replied. "But it is powered by the cube. And I'd like to know how Loki used it to turn two of the sharpest men I know into his personal flying monkeys."

"Monkeys?" Thor asked, confused. "I don't understand—"

"I do!" Steve was so excited to finally know something without having it explained. He looked around to stares, and an encouraging smile from Eleanore, who'd made him watch the _Wizard of Oz_ just a couple days ago when he needed to unwind after visiting Peggy. "I understood that reference."

Stark rolled his eyes and turned to Banner. "Shall we play, Doctor?"

"This way, sir," Banner agreed, not meeting Steve's eyes. Together the scientists walked away. Steve felt embarrassed and resolved not to speak out that way again. Not around Stark, at least.

"I'm going with them," Darren said, kissing Eleanore on the temple and walking quickly from the room. He shot an apologetic glance at Steve, who shrugged in return.

"Let's go find Jet," Eleanore suggested, standing and beckoning to Steve. "Natasha, want to come?"

"No thanks, I'll stay here and help monitor," Romanov said, and the way they spoke to each other sounded friendly and familiar. _They must have known each other a long time._

"Where to?" Steve asked, coming around the table, thankful for someone he actually knew.

"I don't know," Eleanore said, shrugging. "But hey." She gestured him closer and leaned up to whisper in his ear, "How do I get a look at Loki?"

"I know what level he's on," Steve suggested, thinking of the number that had appeared on the screen.

"Care to escort me?"

"Of course," Steve said. But first, will you get me up to speed on what just happened in there?"

"Thermonuclear, like heat energy. Kelvin is a way of measuring temperature that's really exact. Really, it measures energy and waves. And Kelvin regards absolute zero as… a huge lack of energy. So one hundred twenty million Kelvin is a _Lot_ of energy to put behind something. So that narrows down the power sources Loki could use, at least. I don't know what the quantum tunnel effect is, but I'm going to infer that it's a problem that arose when they tried to use the Tesseract before. And heavy ion fusion is not possible with our current level of technology. We're trying for it, though, and fission. Cleaner energy." She explained some of the terms they'd just heard from the scientists so well that Steve was beginning to think she was abnormally intelligent, and just surrounded by super-geniuses so she felt average. At least he felt like he knew a little more about the conversation he'd just witnessed.

They talked on the way down, Eleanore telling Steve about preparing to leave and letting her professors know she was going to be gone, and Steve telling her about the awkward quinjet ride, the briefing, meeting Loki and Tony Stark, and fighting Thor.

"God, Steve, he could have squished you!" she laughed after he told her about the crater he and Thor had made.

"I'm tougher than that," Steve protested, grinning. It was nice to have her here, and Darren too. They acted like he was normal, not stuck in the 1940's.

"Wait," Eleanore stopped in the middle of the hallway, eyes unfocused. Steve felt concerned, but stood silently until she straightened and walked quickly down the hall.

"What is it?" he asked, catching up to her in a few easy strides.

"I can feel him," she said mutedly, still focused somewhere else. "Here," she pulled his arm to stop him outside a windowless door in a hallway of windowless doors. "Jeeze, he's like a fireball of calculating rage."

"You can tell that from here?" Steve was impressed, and wary. If she could sense things from that far away, was she checking on him in his apartment?

"Stop it," she ordered, sounding annoyed.

"What?"

"Stop suspecting me. It's distracting." This was the least-courteous he'd ever seen her, and it took him by surprise.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, feeling confused and annoyed at being bossed around without reason.

"Just… Know what? Here," she laid a hand on his arm and turned to stare at the door.

He was more surprised than anything at her sudden invasion of his personal space, but he tried to focus on what she appeared to be showing him. At first, Steve felt nothing except for the physical touch. Then a weird burning started behind his eyes, and it spread to his chest. It was distant. He wasn't feeling it, but it came from somewhere close by. White-hot, painful, heart-wrenching rage and sadness. Loneliness. He couldn't analyze all the emotions at once. Eleanore was still there, staring at the door, showing him this tangled web. Despair? Confusion? Calm thoughtfulness. Staggering, crushing misery coupled with a bitter frenzy of passion. His breath started coming in short gasps as he was overwhelmed by the feelings that weren't his own, and the panic that was. He couldn't stop it, couldn't block it out. His vision was there, but his eyes wouldn't focus for long. He was looking inward, trying to escape the feeling of madness that threatened his very being.

"Sorry," Eleanore's voice drew him back to the present. The emotions slowly faded, and Steve pushed them away gratefully. She took her hand from his arm. "I just wanted someone else to see that. It's…"

"Insanity." Steve supplied.

"No, it's not that." Eleanore corrected him. "More like incredible devastation. I've been around insane people before. Clinically insane." Steve nodded, because she seemed to want a response. "This is so different. It's like every emotion he has is amplified by something else… He feels it, then it grows. I wonder what his thoughts are like."

"Maybe it's best if we don't know," Steve suggested, drawing her away from the door. "We may never understand it."

"Isn't that scepter a mind-control device?" Eleanore asked, following him as he walked away, frowning thoughtfully. "I wonder if that's his problem."

"I think he has more problems than we can deal with, and besides, we have our own. That he caused." Steve didn't like how focused she had gotten on those emotions, and he worried if she had to feel that way all the time.

"I'm fine, Steve." Eleanore assured him, apparently reading him as well. "Tired, though."

"You look tired," Steve agreed, and she did. Not the same as when she'd healed Peggy, but weary all the same. He knew normal humans couldn't stay up as long as he could, and Eleanore had only gotten a few hours of sleep the night before.

"Thanks," she yawned. "Sorry again for freaking you out."

"I'm fine," Steve told her, and it was true. "But warn me next time."

"Sure. Hey," she looked him up and down. "Why are you still in your suit?"

"I'm…" Steve searched for an explanation other than ' _I like it,'_ "breaking it in."

"I wore mine to fly here with Jet. He hates planes."

"How fast can he fly?"

"Pretty fast. Darren clocked him once at two hundred fifty miles per hour. It's hard to hold on."

"I bet," Steve remembered the Valkyrie battle, and losing his grip slowly, inch by inch, sliding toward that propeller that spelled his certain doom. Watching the other Hydra agent get chopped into a million bloody pieces. "Don't fall off."

"I don't. Obviously."

"Obviously." Steve agreed, thinking of those straps on the saddle. "What did you do with Charlie?"

"Left him at home. Invited a college friend to come stay and eat my food, sleep on my couch, and use my Internet until I get back. They'll both have company."

"Who's the friend?" Steve wondered if he'd meet them, then discarded the idea. Eleanore could have a life outside of the thawed Super Soldier.

"His name is Brogan. I've known him since high school." They got on an elevator and went back to the floor Steve's room was on. "Charlie was so cute last night, though. I played with him for a while, then he jumped in my lap and _hugged_ my _arm_!" Steve had to grin at her enthusiasm. "Then I went to bed and he slept on my back."

"Sounds… cute." Steve didn't know how to properly enthuse over an animal. Cats were generally used for rodent control back when and where he grew up. People could seldom afford to feed the felines, so they wandered around and ate out of the trash, some getting free meals for compassionate housewives, most fighting it out in the alleys. Otis was the one Steve remembered the most because he was the meanest, and the toughest to catch. He didn't want to tell Eleanore that, though.

"Is your room near here?" she changed subjects anyway, so Steve was saved from recanting his alley cat stories.

"Yeah, a couple doors down."

"Darren is between us, and Tony's across the hall. Not that he'll sleep," she yawned again. "But it's nighttime and I'm going to get some rest while I can."

"What about finding Jet?" Steve asked, figuring she probably actually knew where he was.

"He's exploring the ship. He'll find me later," she smiled. "I just used him as an excuse to go investigate Loki."

"Clever," Steve said sarcastically. "They saw us on the cameras."

"I know, but it's better to ask forgiveness than permission."

Steve froze, memories bubbling beneath the surface. "Where did you hear that?"

"My pastor, growing up." Eleanore laughed, seemingly unaware of Steve's disquiet. He tried to act natural so she wouldn't press him about it. "His wife always yelled at him for saying that in church, though."

"I bet. Well, have a nice… sleep." Steve forced a grin, and she gave him a funny look before shrugging and opening the door to her room.

"You rest too, if you can," she told him. "We don't know what will happen next, or when."

"I'll keep that in mind," Steve promised, and she finally entered her room, identical to his, from what he could see, and shut the door.

Not intending to rest, but hoping to be alone for a while, Steve went to his own bunk and lay down with his hands behind his head. He let the memories wash over him, forming images and snatches of conversation that seemed to be from just yesterday, even though his childhood on the streets of Brooklyn was a long time ago.

" _C'mon, Buck." He called, rushing through the crowd of adults easily, his small stature an advantage for once._

" _Steve, damn it, hold on!" Bucky finally caught up to him, and together they pushed to the front where an impromptu ring had been formed._

_People stood around a flat stretch of cobblestone on which only two men stood, facing each other. One was dark-skinned and wore gray pants, the other was white and wore black. The crowd was cheering and placing bets, calling out moves for their favorite to perform. There was excitement in the air, and tension as well. Prohibition was in effect, and many of the people in the crowd had been to speakeasies before attending the spontaneous fight for more entertainment. The smell of whiskey was strong in the air._

" _Your mother is going to kill us if she finds out," Bucky cautioned, whispering in Steve's ear._

" _That's why I won't tell her," Steve replied simply. It was_ not _lying. And there was nothing wrong with seeing a street fight._

" _Better to ask forgiveness than permission," Bucky chuckled, and the boys settled in as the fighters readied their stances._

 _The first punch fell from the dark man's fist with a resounding_ crack _. The white man shook his head and stayed standing, spitting blood and insults onto the ground. Steve had never heard words like that before. His mother had kept him away from areas, so far, that would contain rough characters who used such language._

_The black man did not react to the words, only rolling his neck and keeping his eyes on his opponent._

_The white man lunged forward suddenly, and was caught again by a solid punch right to the jaw. He fell to the ground, to the yells of the crowd. They jeered at him, and insulted both him and his opponent, and the white man's eyes glazed over with fury._

_Steve could tell he would lose from the cold abandon in his eyes._

_The white man, "Springer," the crowd called him, rose to his feet and attacked once more. The black man, called by no real name except slurs, sidestepped him easily and landed a final punch to the side of his head. Springer fell down, breathing heavily, and did not get up._

" _Cheat!" someone in the mob called out, and Steve suddenly felt surrounded. He looked at Bucky and saw his own fear reflected in his eyes._

" _Let's get out of here!" Bucky yelled, and Steve nodded. Before they could turn, however, they were being kicked from all sides by striding feet that could not wait to catch the black man in the human ring. The man turned to run, too, but he was caught by the crowd. Steve could only watch as fists began flying from everywhere, beating him until he fell to his knees._

" _Steve!" Bucky was pulling him along, through the now-thinning crowd. "Come on, we gotta run!"_

_Snapped out of his trance, Steve followed Bucky down long streets and side alleys, only stopping when his breath turned into painful wheezing. Which didn't take very long._

" _Come on, breathe through your nose." Bucky patted him on the back as they stopped on a deserted street corner._

" _What—" Steve tried, but he could only get so much air through his lungs at a time. "—Happened. To… him?"_

_Bucky's eyes darkened. He knew who Steve meant._

" _Maybe he got away." His voice didn't carry much hope._

" _We should… Go back and help."_

" _Steve we can't. Look at us," Bucky gestured to his torn and dirty clothes, and Steve noticed his own ragged appearance for the first time._

" _Buck—"_

" _No." Bucky said firmly. "By the time we got back, it would be too late anyway."_

_Steve straightened his shoulders and took a deep breath. "I have to try, Buck."_

" _I'll tackle you."_

" _No you won't."_

" _Fine, I'll come with you. Punk."_

" _Jerk."_

_The ribbing made Steve feel a little better as they made their way back to the alley. It was dark, and the crowd was gone. There was no sign that anyone had been there at all, except for some blood on the cobblestones._

" _They're gone Steve," Bucky whispered. "Let's go."_

" _Wait," Steve held up his hand, and both boys stopped breathing. A low moan issued from a pile of trash off the side of the alley._

" _Hello?" Bucky called, and Steve shushed him. They pressed forward hesitantly, and the trash morphed as they got closer into the battered figure of a man._

" _Hey," Steve said, trying to make his voice as grown-up as possible. Bucky grabbed his arm, ready to pull him away and run again._

" _What are you doing here?" the man groaned at them. He moved his head and the street lamp shone on the lumps and blood on his face._

" _We wanted to make sure you were okay." Steve knew that sounded stupid the moment he said it._

" _What, were you gonna fight that mob?" the man asked sarcastically, with a gurgling chuckle._

_Steve looked him over, and decided to ignore the question. "We could help take you home. Where do you live?"_

" _You two boys can't carry me, and I can't walk that far." The man sighed. "Just leave me alone to rest."_

" _My mom says it's not good to stay out on the street all night," Bucky retorted, and Steve felt glad for the support._

" _Then why the hell are you here with me?" the man asked logically._

" _Never mind, just tell us where you live and we'll go get someone to help you." Steve was getting tired, and his throat hurt, but he wanted to finish what he'd started by coming here in the first place._

" _A block and a half north," the man conceded, pointing with a shaking hand. "239 Britton Avenue. My brother should be there. Tell him James got in trouble."_

" _I'll run there," Bucky volunteered. "Steve, you stay with him."_

" _Okay."_

" _Hey," Bucky turned just as he was about to leave the alley. "James is my name too."_

" _Well ain't that the end all," said James, and Steve saw him roll his eyes. Bucky grinned and took off faster than Steve could ever hope to run on his own._

_Steve and James sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the occasional car passing and dog barking._

" _What were you doing here?" James asked again, breaking the quiet._

" _We wanted to see a fight," Steve admitted. "You were really good."_

" _Not good enough," James corrected him. "Or you gonna argue that too?"_

" _No, you got beat up," Steve grinned, and James scoffed._

" _Just wait 'til I tell your mother on you boys."_

" _Please don't," Steve said quietly, thinking to himself. "I'm going to tell her myself, I think."_

" _Are you now?"_

" _Yeah, I don't like lying. Even if it's just staying quiet."_

" _That's good. She'll forgive you."_

" _Better to ask forgiveness than permission," Steve grinned, and James gave a short bark of laughter that turned into a wheeze._

_Footsteps approached, and Bucky whispered, "Steve?"_

" _Still here," Steve replied._

" _Damn it, James," another tall man rounded the corner after Bucky, rushing over to his brother. "What happened this time?"_

" _I'll tell you at home," James promised him, grunting as his brother picked him up and slung his arm over his shoulder. "You kids gonna get home all right?"_

" _We'll be fine," Bucky promised, and Steve nodded. They were only a few blocks from home themselves._

" _Be sure you are," James said, reaching out and tousling their hair. "I'll be seeing you around."_

_The boys made it back to Steve's house before his mother got home from her night shift of nursing. Steve told her in the morning about sneaking out to see the fight, and about James. His mother was mad at first, but she softened when he told her about James and Bucky having the same name, and James' brother coming to get him. She said that she was proud of him for telling the truth, even if it got him in trouble. Then she washed his mouth out with soap._

Steve smiled at the memory and closed his eyes, suddenly feeling tired. _Maybe a nap wouldn't hurt._ He sighed and drifted into slumber with good memories to guide him.

 


	21. Chapter 21

Steve jolted awake to the sound of someone knocking on his door. He rose, shaking his head and looking at his watch. _I slept for three hours?_ He was still in his uniform, which was thankfully unwrinkled, and he felt completely refreshed after a deep sleep.

" _Steve?"_ Eleanore's voice sounded outside his door.

" _Maybe he's not here,"_ Darren suggested from beside her.

" _Sweetheart, who are you talking to?"_ Eleanore asked seriously.

" _Oh yeah,"_ Darren paused. " _I forget sometimes."_

Another knock sounded, this time quicker and more insistent.

"Just a sec," Steve called, checking himself over one more time, fixing his hair. His shield had been returned to his room after retrieving Loki, and he left it there in the corner.

"What's up?" he asked, opening the door.

"We're going to the lab to see what's going on," Eleanore told him, and Darren nodded along. They were both dressed differently than they had been before, changed out of their normal casual attire into more utilitarian outfits. Darren wore a plain green t-shirt and black jeans with black sneakers. He carried a small tablet in his hands, on which he typed and wrote with a soft-tipped pen. Eleanore wore a fitted, half-sleeve purple shirt and very tight black pants with no pockets. Steve would have called them tights, but they were thicker. Thin gray tennis shoes that were quiet as she stepped back from his door and a tight braid completed her ensemble.

""I'll join you," Steve decided as the door automatically shut behind him. He was glad they'd woken him up. He didn't need to sleep through more progress.

"Cool," Eleanore said, and turned to lead the way. Darren and Steve followed, the younger man still focused on the tablet in his hand.

"What is that?" Steve asked, noting the mathematical formulas displayed across the screen.

"Its plans for a more efficient quinjet engine that we can install in the current models," Darren replied, glancing up at him. "The trick is friction and energy usage. If I could figure out a way to have them start… smarter…" he rearranged a few of the symbols and frowned.

"I was meaning to ask you— are they made to fly low?"

"They can fly at any height," Darren said, looking up again and focusing on Steve. "They have special hover engines that can make them travel really fast, but they fly _best_ at normal cruising altitude. Thirty-five thousand feet or higher. But," he continued, getting into the explanation, "If we want them to go below radar, they can, without the dangers of a helicopter."

"What sort of dangers?" Steve had seen prototypes made by the Allied military during the War, but he had never been in one.

"Blade stall, for one thing. It's not normally an issue, but if a helicopter goes too fast, the air traveling over the blades matches the speed of the air being pushed under it, and they can't get any lift." Darren frowned and switched another symbol on his screen. "And helicopters are very vulnerable to ground fire. Take out an engine and boom."

Steve looked up and saw Stark and Banner through the glass walls of the lab. "What's different about—" Stark shocked Banner and made him jump, and Steve's gut wrenched in anticipation.

"Hey!" he interrupted himself, striding ahead of Eleanore and Darren into the room.

"Nothing?" Stark asked, peering at Banner intensely.

"Are you nuts?" Steve asked, exasperated and relieved when Banner smiled calmly and returned to his work.

"Jury's out," Stark retorted, and Banner laughed. "You really have got a lid on it, haven't you. What's your secret?" Stark moved back as Banner lifted a device over Loki's scepter. "Mellow jazz, bongo drums, huge bag of weed?"

"Is everything a joke to you?" Steve asked scornfully, not expecting to accomplish much. Stark needed to learn how to be part of a team if they were going to take Loki down.

"Funny things are," Stark replied, pointing the shocking device at Steve.

"Tony…" Eleanore sighed from behind Steve, and she and Darren walked into view.

"Threatening the safety of everyone on this ship isn't funny," Steve continued, looking to Banner as he realized how much the man was trying to help and keep them safe. "No offense, Doctor."

"I-it's alright," Banner assured him, looking at readouts on a screen. "I wouldn't have come aboard if I couldn't handle…" he looked at Tony, "Pointy things."

Stark grimaced and walked around to stand near Darren, looking over his shoulder at the tablet. "You're tiptoeing, Big Man," he told Banner. "You need to strut."

"And you need to focus on the problem, Mr. Stark." Steve felt like everything was moving in a bad direction, beyond his control. Eleanore stepped closer to him, and nudged him with her elbow. He looked down at her, and she shook her head slightly, motioning to the elder Stark.

"You think I'm not?" Tony challenged, pulling a silver bag from a shelf. "Why did Fury call us in— why _now_? Why not before? What isn't he telling us? I can't do the equation unless I have all the variables."

Steve suddenly took the older man more seriously, considering his questions. "You think Fury's hiding something?"

"He's a spy," Stark agreed. "Captain, he's _the_ Spy. His secrets have secrets." He popped a piece of food from the silver bag into his mouth and gestured to Banner. "It's bugging him too. Isn't it?"

Banner raised his hands, "Um, I just want to finish my work here, and…"

"Doctor?" Steve asked, wanting his real opinion. If there was a conspiracy, if they were being used for something bigger, then he wanted to know.

Banner sighed and hesitated, then glanced at Steve, removed his glasses, and began to talk. "A warm light for all mankind— Loki's jab at Fury about the cube."

"I heard it," Steve encouraged, thinking back.

"Well, I think that was meant for you," Banner pointed at Stark, who held out the silver bag. Banner shrugged and took something from it. "Even if Barton didn't tell Loki about the tower, it was still all over the news."

"The Stark Tower," Steve clarified to himself. "That big ugly…" he glanced around at Darren and Tony, who were looking at him, one with confusion, one with challenging amusement. "…building in New York?"

"That's powered by an arc reactor, a self-sustaining energy source." Stark nodded in agreement as Banner continued, "That building will run itself for what? A year?"

"That's just the prototype," Stark added, looking at his son, who nodded. "We're kind of the only name in clean energy right now," he told Steve proudly. "That's what he's getting at." Steve didn't like being spoken to like a child, but he passed over it.

"So why didn't SHIELD bring him in on the Tesseract project? What are they doing in the energy business in the first place?" As he spoke more, Dr. Banner became more confident, looking Steve and Stark in the eye. His voice still remained quiet and calm, lacking a lot of emotion, but Steve could tell he'd put a lot of thought into these ideas.

"I should probably look into that," Tony said, walking around the desk and pulling out a clear phone. "One my decryption program finishes breaking into all of SHIELD's secure files."

Steve's mind absorbed the information and rejected it. "I'm sorry, did you say—"

"Jarvis has been running it since I hit the bridge," Stark looked up from his device and showed Steve the screen. It was full of shapes and symbols that Steve didn't understand. "In a few hours, I'll know every dirty secret SHIELD has ever tried to hide. Blueberry?" he offered Steve the silver bag.

Steve ignored it. "Yet you're confused about why they didn't want you around."

"Tony," Eleanore interrupted, stepping between them and looking at the older man. "They can definitely hear you right now." Steve looked at her incredulously. _Are you not worried about breaking and entering?_ He reassessed the facts he'd just heard, and his opinion of Eleanore's morals.

"Program's too far along to worry about that," Tony assured her. She rolled her eyes, and Stark turned his attention back to Steve. "An intelligence organization that fears intelligence? Historically not awesome."

Steve turned his attention back to the team aspect of the problem. "I think Loki's trying to wind us up. This is a man who means to start a war, and if we don't stay focused, he'll succeed." Banner looked up at him, and Steve met his gaze. "We have orders. We should follow them."

"Following's not really my style." Stark ate more blueberries and Steve fought the urge to shake the smug look off his face.

"And you're all about style, aren't you?" He settled for a jab instead.

Stark was not amused. "Of the people in this room, which one is A. wearing a spangly outfit, and B. not of use?"

That hurt, though it shouldn't have. All Steve wanted to do was help, but these people seemed more focused on uncovering secrets than saving lives.

"Tony." Eleanore said sharply, doing what Steve already referred to as _the look._ Stark gazed at her with a bland expression.

"Steve," Banner said softly. "Tell me none of this smells a little funky to you."

Steve looked from him, to Stark, to Eleanore, to Darren, who had come up behind her and was watching the debate quietly. He didn't want to fight with these people any more, and it wouldn't do any good anyway. Maybe they were right, after all. Maybe SHIELD did have something to hide. In any case, he wanted to be alone to think things through.

"Just find the cube," he said, and left the room.

"Tony, you were such an—" Eleanore began whispering as he walked away.

"Asshole? Haven't you been around me long enough to expect that?" Stark rebutted, sounding cocky. "Pick a better insult."

"I'm not trying to insult you, I'm trying to help."

"Why bother? What do we even need Captain Star-Spangled Values for anyway?" Steve paused, out of sight of the door. Why _did_ they need him? He was outdated, old-fashioned, and he didn't have even the historical background to know what modern covert operations were like.

"That's just mean." Eleanore sounded disappointed. "You're better than that. You know we need him."

"But why? Tell me one good reason."

"He's a leader. We don't have a leader. We have me, the impulsive healer who is too hot-headed to stay out of battle, and my friend, the dragon, who bites the head off of anyone who crosses me. We have your son, the genius who is great at tactics, but bad at communication…"

"Hey," Darren interjected. "I communicate."

"Not quickly, and you take a long time to make decisions. I love you." Eleanore sighed and continued. "We've got Natasha, who is a trained _solo_ killer, and has only ever really worked well with one person, who is currently in Loki's clutches. And Dr. Banner, whose Hulk side isn't into strategy. And you. Do I need to go on?"

"Not if you want to keep your inheritance," Stark grumbled, and Steve heard him walk away.

"I'm going to go find him," Eleanore was speaking to Darren. "See if he's okay."

"Where's Jet, anyway?" Darren asked her, clearly not overly worried about her assessment of his leadership skills.

"On deck, eating. See you later, have fun." She walked so quietly, he couldn't hear which door she had exited from or where she was headed.

Steve started walking away, not really wanting to talk to her or anyone right then, even if she had just stood up for him. He wasn't so sure that a leader is what they needed, not with the team consisting, as it did, of such independent people. He doubted very much that bringing them together would ever work anyway, simply because they were all so different, and they had such different goals.

The Howling Commandos, Steve recalled as he walked quickly along, had always wanted the same things. Their collective goal was to take Hydra down, win the war, and go home. And they had been willing to do whatever it took— long missions with minimal rations, cold nights of planning, hot days trudging through the rain. Steve didn't miss the circumstances, but he did miss the people. And the less-complicated facts that he had been responsible for finding and delivering the old-fashioned way.

He stopped cold in the hall as a new thought occurred to him. _Why not just find out? I know where the weapons room is._ He had passed the door labeled _Authorized Personnel Only— Level 7 ID Required Beyond This Point._ And through the tiny window of that door, Steve had seen normal issue artillery, new weapons, and a sealed door behind it that led to a dark room.

It would be so simple, and he wouldn't have to rely on anyone else to get the knowledge. It would be like breaking into minimum-security bases all over again. This he could do, and the appeals outweighed the questionable ethics. _Better to ask forgiveness…_

He made his way down the hall and up a flight of stairs to the level he needed. Most agents were asleep at this point, the middle of the night nearing dawn, and the halls were quiet. Nobody gave him a second glance as he walked purposely toward his goal.

Turning the last corner into the deserted hallway, Steve sensed something behind him. He looked back, and Jet was loping up to his side, blue eyes intent on Steve's motions.

"What?" Steve asked, wanting to shoo the alien, but aware that this was not quite a human and much more than an animal.

Jet just looked up at him, then around to the door Steve was headed to.

"Elle's downstairs in the lab. At least, she was a minute ago. Go find her," he suggested, wondering why the dragon was not guarding her as much as it normally did.

Jet didn't move, just looked up at Steve and sighed.

"Fine, stay here," Steve gave up and continued to the door that held his interest. Once he reached it, his access card didn't work, which set his plan back by a long way. He sighed, considering his other options.

Jet padded silently up beside him, and looked him in the eyes, then stretched his nose out to barely touch the door. Steve heard the lock click, but the light on the panel stayed red. Jet looked up at him again expectantly.

 _Might as well try,_ Steve thought, gripping the sides of the door. He strained, trying not to grunt as it slid open little by little until he and the dragon-dog stepped through. Steve closed the door again quickly, and the lock clicked back in place. They walked through the room of artillery and up the next door, where they repeated the process.

Steve and Jet walked into a long, dark room full of boxes, and Steve spotted a walkway overhead. He leapt up to it and over the railing with minimal noise, certain that no one knew he was there from the sound alone. He knew he didn't have much time, and he glanced down at Jet, who was sitting calmly on the floor, gazing at the entrance. Steve left him there, since he knew the dragon could jump or walk up the stairs to the catwalk if he wanted to.

Steve walked up to a nondescript door labeled _Experimental: Tesseract Phase 2 — Authorized to Level 8 and Up._ It was the only door with Level 8 on it, so Steve decided to start there.

This door was simple to open, swinging free with one strong yank. More boxes greeted him, metal sealed with lockable latches. One set of latches were already open, and Steve stood in front of the box, contemplating what could be inside.

_Only one way to find out._

He opened the lid, and his heart sank into angry, battlefield memories as the new Hydra mask stared up at him next to a Hydra gun. _So this is what SHIELD used the Tesseract for._ Vaporized prisoners, the smell of smoke, the whisper as they burned, the screams, everything was seared into Steve's mind, burying him in a barrage of relived horror. He held back an angry shout, and instead rerouted all of his previous frustration into his new feeling of betrayal. He looked back into the hallway, from which voices were echoing, coming closer.

This was something his team should know.

"Captain Rogers," an unfamiliar agent exclaimed as Steve jumped from the catwalk, landing in a crouch. Steve held a Hydra weapon in his hand, and either that or something in his face caused the young agent to blanch and back away, letting him follow Jet out the door. No one followed them.

Jet split off from him as Steve returned to the lab where the Starks and Banner were still gathered, talking to an agitated Fury.

"What is Phase 2?" Tony asked as Steve entered the room.

Steve slammed the gun down on the table, earning the attention of everyone in the room. "Phase 2 is SHIELD uses the cube to make weapons." He didn't bother to hide his anger, speaking sharply. Darren immediately walked over the started inspecting the gun. "Sorry," Steve told Tony. "The computer was moving a little slow for me."

"Rogers, we gathered everything related to the Tesseract." Fury walked over and laid a hand on Darren's arm, trying to move him away. Darren just glanced up and shrugged him off, earning him some new respect in Steve's book. "This does not mean that we're—"

"I'm sorry Nick," Tony spoke loudly, interrupting the reassurances. He turned his screen around to show designs for new, improved missiles based on Hydra's designs. "What were you lying?"

Steve couldn't believe it. _Would Peggy have wanted this? No._ "I was wrong, Director," he said, letting disappointment creep into his voice. "The world hasn't changed a bit."

"Did you know about this?" Banner asked Romanov as she and Thor walked into the room.

"You want to think about removing yourself from this environment, Doctor?" She asked in reply.

"I was in _Calcutta_ ," Banner retorted, clearly frustrated. "I was pretty well removed."

"Loki is manipulating you," Romanov warned him, walking closer. For the first time, Steve thought, she looked dangerous.

"And you've been doing what, exactly?" Banner asked.

"You didn't come here because I batted my eyelashes at you."

"Yes, and I'm not leaving because you get a little twitchy." Banner moved toward the screen, and Steve had to respect his control. He wasn't angry, just intense. "I'd like to know why SHIELD is using the Tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction."

"Because of him," Fury pointed to Thor, who looked confused.

"Me?"

"Last year Earth had a visitor from another planet who had a grudge match that leveled a small town. We learned that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly, hilariously outgunned." Fury sounded like he was giving a speech as a politician. Steve didn't buy it.

"My people want nothing but peace with your planet," Thor protested.

"But you're not the only people out there, are you?" Fury challenged. "And you're not the only threat. The world's filling up with people who can't be matched. They can't be controlled."

"Like you controlled the cube?" Steve asked, getting tired of Fury's righteous monologue.

"Your work with the Tesseract is what drew Loki to it. And his allies. It is a signal to all the realms that the Earth is ready for a higher form of war," Thor said menacingly.

"A higher form?" Steve felt a sense of dread. If all the other aliens were gearing up to bash Earth, then what hope did a missile, no matter how powerful, have of stopping them?

"You forced our hand," Fury protested. "We had to come up with some—"

"A nuclear deterrent," Stark provided. "Because that always calms everything right down."

"Hey, what's going on?" Eleanore asked, walking into the room with Jet at her heels. She looked around warily, clearly feeling the energy the fighting produced.

"Remind me again how you made your fortune, Stark," Fury ignored her, and attacked Tony's credibility. Steve had heard about Stark's irresponsible weapons dealing, and it made him sick.

"I'm sure if he still made weapons Stark would be neck deep in it, but—" Steve began acidly.

"Wait, wait. Hold on. How is this now about me?" Tony asked, and Steve felt bad for a second, for turning the argument away from his main point. Stark had been trying to help him, after all, cluing him into the problem and looking up the files as evidence.

"I'm sorry, isn't everything?" Steve decided to hide his guilt behind another jab, to get back at Tony for his 'useless' comments from before.

"I thought humans were more evolved than this," Thor interjected, looking at Fury.

"Excuse me, do we come to your planet and blow stuff up?" Fury rounded on him.

"Um, guys, this is getting out of hand," Eleanore spoke loudly, but was ignored as Romanov joined in and the conversations kept flowing.

"Are you boys really that naive? SHIELD monitors potential threats." The assassin looked annoyed, as though everyone should be bowing down in thanks to SHIELD for their safety.

"Captain America is on a threat watch?" Banner asked incredulously.

"We all are."

"Wait," Stark said, turning his attention from Steve. "You're on that list? Are you above or below anger beast?"

The conversation devolved from there, until everyone was against everyone else in the room. Eleanore pulled Darren to the side and began whispering to him, holding his arm, and Jet stood between them and the rest of the room. Steve felt sorry for them, because Eleanore must be feeling all the agitation from everyone involved, but he didn't care as much about that as he wanted to take Stark down a peg.

Suddenly, Thor's voice broke through the haze of comment and retort that had settled on Steve's brain. "You speak of control, yet you court chaos."

"That's his MO, isn't it?" Barton spoke into the silence. "I mean what are we, a team? No, we're a chemical mixture that makes chaos. We're— we're a time bomb." Steve felt the hairs prickle on his neck as he saw the Doctor fighting for control.

"You need to step away," Fury ordered him, his voice commanding and concerned.

"Why shouldn't the guy let off a little steam?" Tony asked, laying a hand on Steve's shoulder.

"You know damn well why!" Steve brushed him away. "Now back off."

"Oh, I'm starting to want you to make me," Stark goaded, and Steve felt his anger and scorn rise.

"Yeah," he scoffed. "Big man in a suit of armor. Take that away and what are you?"

"Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist." Stark retorted.

Steve was not impressed. "I know guys with none of that worth ten of you." He prepared to fight dirty, using personal attacks that went deep. "I've seen the footage. The only thing you really fight for is yourself. You're not the guy to make the sacrifice play. To lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you."

"I think I would just cut the wire," Stark replied, but Steve could see he was offended. Over Stark's shoulder, Eleanore was glaring at him with disappointment and anger. Darren wouldn't even look at him.

Steve pushed all that to the back of his mind and focused on his argument again, because all he wanted now was to win. "Always a way out. You know you may not be a threat, but you better stop pretending to be a hero."

Something lit in Stark's eyes, and he lashed out. "A hero? Like you? You're a lab experiment, Rogers. Everything special about you came out of a bottle."

"God _damn_ it, shut up," Eleanore pushed herself between the two men, and Darren took his father's arm and pulled him back, talking quietly.

"Steve, what the hell?" she confronted him, moving so he was looking at her, no Starks in his line of sight.

"I—" Steve wanted to explain, but now that she was there, calm was washing over him. "Don't do that!" His anger surged again, more powerful than ever.

"Do what?" she stepped back, almost flinching, and Steve didn't take the time to feel sorry. She could learn to live without controlling everyone around her. He turned back to Stark, who pushed Darren out of the way and got right in his face.

"Put on the suit," Steve taunted. "Let's go a few rounds."

Thor's laughter cut through the tension, making Steve annoyed. "You people are so petty. And tiny," he jeered.

"Yeah, this is a team," Banner sarcastically commented.

"Agent Romanov," Fury began, "would you escort Dr. Banner back to his—"

"Where?" Banner asked. "You rented my room."

"The cell was just in case—"

"In case you needed to kill me, but you can't. I know, I've tried." Steve felt a little of the anger he felt evaporate into compassionate surprise. Stark was silent beside him.

Banner looked around uncomfortably, crossing his arms. "I got low," he explained. "I didn't see an end, so I put a bullet in my mouth. And the Other Guy spit it out." He looked around defiantly. "So I moved on. I focused on helping other people. I was good until you dragged me back into this freak show, and put everyone here at risk. You wanna know my secret Agent Romanov? You want to know how I stay calm?"

Steve's heart quickened as Banner laid his hands on the scepter and lifted it from its stand. The atmosphere of the room seemed charged with hateful energy.

"Dr. Banner," he said, trying to draw the dangerous attention to himself. "Put down the scepter."

Banner looked insolently at Steve, and his grip tightened on the glowing stick. Steve looked around, planning on the best way to get everyone out, if the worst should happen. Eleanore moved behind the counter Steve faced, and he saw her concentrating on Banner and on staying out of the way.

A computer beeped into the silence, drawing Banner's attention. He put the scepter down.

"Sorry kids, you don't get to see my party trick after all." He went over to the screen and started analyzing its contents. Steve saw it showed a map of the northeast United States.

"You've located the Tesseract!" Thor exclaimed.

"I can get there faster," Tony volunteered.

"I'll go with you," Darren said, and Eleanore glared at him from behind the other console. "What?"

"The Tesseract belong on Asgard, no human is a match for it," Thor retorted, looking down on all of them.

"You're not going alone," Steve told the Starks, who were heading for the door. He grabbed Tony's arm to halt their progress.

"You gonna stop me?" Tony batted his hand away and challenged Steve.

"Put on the suit," Steve told him, trying to make it an order. "Let's find out."

"I'm not afraid to hit an old man," Stark quipped, and memories of friends lost to time flashed behind Steve's eyes.

It only furthered his rage. "Put on the suit."

The computer was still beeping, and Steve heard Banner exclaim, "Oh my god."

An acute sense of dread hit Steve, and he identified the source as Eleanore, who was looking at Banner with horror and apprehension. Then an explosion rocked the ship, and Steve's perception was narrowed to darkness, heat, and light.

 


	22. Chapter 22

Steve opened his eyes. Smoke, flashing, darkness. Everything was ringing, and Steve took a moment to visually locate everyone in the room.

Darren was in the hallway, uninjured and already stirring. Romanov and Banner had been thrown through the glass wall behind the desk. Eleanore had hit the solid portion of that wall, and was standing from behind the console with Jet sniffing her singed clothing, hackles raised. Fury was on the opposite side of the room, struggling to stand, and Thor had been thrown into the hallway through the other door.

"Put on the suit," Steve told Stark, getting up.

"Yep," Stark replied, looking from Darren to Steve in panic.

"I'm going to go help out the medics," Eleanore ran past them, followed closely by Jet. Darren pressed a button on his wristwatch, and seconds later a backpack flew by, unfolding as it went, into the familiar gray and violet colors of her suit.

"Here," Tony handed Steve a small white ear piece that fit tightly to his head. As he adjusted it he heard communication flowing through.

"… _gotta get outside and patch that engine._ " Hill's voice came through.

" _Stark, you copy that?_ " Fury asked.

"On it," Tony said, looking to Darren and heading down the hall. Steve followed them, figuring that he could at least provide backup if they got attacked.

"We'll meet you there," Darren told Steve, following his father to a large container. It opened to reveal their suits, and Steve nodded and left.

He made his way to the engine, following the trail of smoke and the people running away from it. There was a door that was held shut by a metal fixture that had come undone from the ceiling. Steve moved it, and heard shouting on the other side. The door opened, and three men stood there in oxygen masks, one severely injured. Behind them was the edge of the carrier, dripping debris and sparks from the aftermath of the explosion.

"Stark!" Steve yelled into his ear piece, holding a hand up to see if there was a button that needed pressing. He didn't really care which Stark answered, only that they heard him. "Stark, I'm here!"

" _Good_ ," Tony's voice was calmer now, as he and Darren flew to the outer edge of the engine.

" _Fried, most of it_ ," Darren muttered, surveying the casing of the engine.

" _If we can rewire it even a bit, we can get it running._ " Tony rebutted. " _I'll look inside, you stay out here and take care of the power_."

" _Got it._ " Darren looked around, hovering in midair as Steve looked on. "W _e've got to get the superconducting cooling system back online before you move that debris._ "

" _Okay, I'll work on it from in here,_ " Tony replied.

" _Steve_ ," Darren looked at him for the first time. It was a little disconcerting to have the younger Stark speaking face to face from that distance and having his voice come from Steve's ear. " _Can you get to that control panel and look at it for me? I'll tell you what I need_." He pointed to an area a fair distance away, a small alcove that used to be a hallway.

"Yeah," Steve said, and mapped his jump in his mind. He reached for a sturdy bar and used it to swing himself up to the alcove, lurching into the space by grabbing the edge. There was a handle in the wall, and Steve pulled it out to reveal an orange electronic board.

" _Okay, Steve, what does it look like in there?_ " Darren asked, his voice distorted by the wind in Steve's ear.

Steve had no idea what to tell him. "It seems to run on some form of electricity."

" _Well, you're not wrong_ ," Tony told him, sounding focused.

" _There's flashing, isn't there?_ " Darren asked, and Steve thanked God for the younger, helpful Stark.

"Yeah, quite a bit" he told them.

" _What we need you to do is just unplug each relay ending. They should look like round… cords. Plugs. Damn it, Elle was right._ " Darren laughed. " _Don't tell her. I'll come up there._ "

"No, you're doing fine," Steve assured him, inwardly grinning. "I think I see what you mean. I'm unplugging them." He did, and no sparks issued from the ports, which he took as a good sign.

" _Okay, now plug each one back into their same port._ "

Steve did. "Now what?"

" _Is the flashing still happening?_ "

"Less now."

" _What part of the panel is flashing?_ " Darren grunted suddenly, and Steve heard metal screeching.

"The… front, facing the outside, right. The front right side."

" _Oh, that's easy._ " Darren sounded relieved. " _Just hit the switch on the bottom of the whole panel, then switch it back on again._ "

"OK," Steve found the switch and the whole panel went dark. When it started back up again, there was no flashing. Steve checked both sides to be sure. "I think it's good."

" _No flashing?_ "

"None."

" _Is everything lit up that has lights?_ "

"Yeah," Steve checked again.

" _Okay, slide that panel back in._ " More metal shrieked from the outside as Steve complied.

"What's our next move?" he asked, surveying the stalled engine from the outside.

" _I'm going to remove the debris,_ " Tony spoke up. " _But this thing won't reengage without a jump. I'll have to get in there and push._ "

" _Um, Dad,_ " Steve could hear doubt in Darren's voice, and this time he knew why.

"If that thing gets up to speed, you'll be shredded." He almost felt proud of himself for pointing out a flaw in the older Stark's plan.

" _That stater control unit can reverse the polarity long enough to disengage mag-lev—_ "

"Speak English," Steve interrupted him.

Tony sighed. " _See that red lever?_ "

Steve looked around and spotted one not far away.

" _It will slow the roters down long enough for me to get out. Stand by it and wait for my word._ "

" _I've still got a few things to weld out here,_ " Darren warned. " _It's not going to turn on yet._ "

" _I'll move the debris, then start rotating so it engages when you get it_ ," Tony replied.

Steve heard the engine start whirring, and jumped across to the lever so he'd be ready to do his part. He saw some metal fall from the bottom of the engine, and then more followed. He turned back and caught sight of a couple of men in oxygen masks holding guns and moving quickly to the edge of the platform. Steve straightened for a closer look. One held a grenade and prepared to throw it, which would undo all the work the Starks had put into fixing the engine. Neither of them noticed him standing above their heads.

Steve leapt across the open space just as the man threw the grenade, and knocked it down and away. It exploded harmlessly below the plane. Then he swung down and took out the guy and his partner before they could throw more. The one throwing the grenade fell, presumably to his death, and the other was almost too easy to knock out.

A man started shooting from the hallway, and Steve wished for his shield. He threw a piece of metal, hoping he wasn't damaging engine parts, and picked up a gun to fight back. He backed up to the lever, prepared to guard it with his life.

His suit was bulletproof, so Steve only had to worry about his head. Things were going pretty well, he thought, until the plane started tilting.

" _Stark, we're losing altitude_ ," Fury's voice came through the communicator in Steve's ear.

" _Yeah, noticed_."

" _It's ready,_ " Darren informed them.

" _Get in here and help me push_ ," Tony ordered him. " _We have to get this thing going yesterday._ "

Steve exchanged fire once again with the man below him, and saw his eyes were not blue. _A mercenary, then._ The man jumped out suddenly, and began a steady stream of bullets that had Steve dodging back. A few shots bounced off his suit, but it held.

Then his foot slipped and his stomach jumped into his throat as he plummeted over the edge into open air. A stray wire brushed his hand, and he grabbed it, clinging desperately as it brought his fall to an abrupt halt. He dangled there like a spider on a web, hoping the wind was whipping him around too much for the mercenary to get in a good, life ending shot.

" _Hrrrauuugh!_ " Tony yelled through the ear piece, and Steve felt the aircraft stabilize somewhat.

" _We're about up to speed,_ " Darren shouted over the background whirring. Steve knew that the statement was meant for him, but he was busy holding onto the wire. He didn't know how the ear piece picked up his voice in the first place, so he wondered if responding would even be worth the effort.

" _Cap, hit the lever,_ " Tony sounded urgent.

Steve decided to try speaking. "I need a minute here!" Shouting over the wind took more work than placing his hands one over the other did as he crawled back up.

" _It's Barton,_ " Fury's voice broke through. " _He's headed for the detention level. Does anybody copy?"_

" _This is Agent Romanov. I copy."_

" _Steve,_ " Darren was sounding nervous. Steve redoubled his climbing, straining more because of the wind than anything else.

" _Lever, now!_ " Tony urged.

Steve reached the grated floor and hauled himself onto it, keeping his head down to present less of a target. The mercenary started shooting at him again, but there wasn't much Steve could do except keep climbing. He heard the clanking of metal against metal from the engine, so he put in a last burst of effort and reached the lever, pulled it down.

The clanking stopped, but the shooting continued until a _whooshing_ noise accompanied by a red and gold suit that dove through the tunnel below, knocking the shooter flat. Steve took a moment to catch his breath, as Darren landed beside him looking decidedly worse for wear. The mask folded back, so they were speaking without the aid of technology.

"Let's go get my dad," the young man suggested once Steve looked up at him. "I think he's getting too old for this crap."

" _I heard that_ ," Tony yelled, still using the ear piece. " _You and that woman of yours need to start respecting your elders!_ "

Steve stood and accompanied Darren to the lower level, where Tony lay on his back, the eyes of his suit dark.

"Power up, Dad," Darren seemed unimpressed. The eyes lit back up and Tony rolled his neck and stood, folding his mask up as well.

" _Agent Coulson is down_ ," Fury's voice came through suddenly, and they all stood still to listen.

" _A medical team is on its way to your location,"_ some unknown dispatcher answered him.

" _They're here,"_ Fury's voice was flat, emotionless. " _They called it._ "

Steve's heart sank, thinking of the enthusiastic man who'd been the first to truly welcome him aboard, who had assured him he was the man for this job. He hadn't gotten to sign his trading cards yet. Tony Stark's face seemed frozen, and Darren bowed his head in grief. Steve remembered the offer of lunch in Malibu. _Stark must have known him pretty well._

Steve let the silence continue for a moment, before he clapped Darren's metal shoulder. "Come on, we better see how the rest of the team did."

They walked in silence, the Starks making a quick pit stop to remove their damaged suits. Tony waved him away as the metal folded away from his body, and Steve left them alone to deal with their loss. He changed out of his suit, ready to just be himself again. He left the boots on, though, because they were comfortable.

The conference table was deserted when he got there, but Eleanore was across the room tending to the injured man Steve had seen at the engine. Jet was sitting near the table, his eyes on the door, as if to ward off any other attackers.

Eleanore finished her work and walked up the table, seating herself beside Steve with a sigh. She looked exhausted again, but still functional.

"Did you hear?" she asked him quietly, and he nodded. She blinked back tears, and Steve was almost startled. It was the first time he'd seen her cry.

"Did you know him?" he asked, not knowing what else to say.

"Yeah, for a long time. He and my mom worked together for some things. He had dinner with us sometimes. He taught me hand-to-hand." She wiped her eyes and sniffed. "But how are you? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," Steve assured her, and it was true. He was sad about losing Coulson, but he hadn't known him that well. And the bruises from getting shot were already fading, so he decided not to tell her about them.

"You and Tony getting along better?" she inquired. Steve could tell she was trying to distract herself, so he made himself talk to her.

"We seem to be. Darren helps. We fixed the engine, although they did most of the work."

"I heard through the coms," Eleanore tapped her ear. Steve made a mental note to remember that title.

"Did you hear Thor got trapped in the cell by Loki, and then dropped out of the plane?"

"No," Steve

"Hey," Darren said, walking in with Tony beside him. Eleanore stood and hugged him, and he held her close for a moment before choosing the seat next to hers. Tony sat next to Darren, but turned his chair so that his back was to the table.

Fury strode in without his usual energy. He carried a small stack of paper, and came to rest at the head of the table.

He held up one of the pieces of paper, "These were in Phil Coulson's jacket. Guess he never did get you to sign them." He tossed the cards across the table, and blood spattered where they hit. Steve picked one of them up and saw himself saluting a long time ago. Eleanore leaned to look over his shoulder, glanced at him sympathetically, and wrapped her hand around Darren's arm. The young man's face was blank, and he stared straight ahead. Steve recognized the international sign for holding back tears.

"We're dead in the air up here," Fury sighed. "Our communications, location of the cube, Banner, Thor. I've got nothing for you. Lost my one good eye." He shook his head, "Maybe I had that coming."

Fury looked up at them each in turn. Steve didn't bother to meet his eyes.

"Yes," he continued, "we were going to build an arsenal with the Tesseract." He began walking around, pausing to rest his hand on the back of an empty chair. "I never put all my chips on that number, though, because I was playing something even riskier."

Steve looked over, the thoughts already clicking in his mind.

"There was an idea," Fury started walking again, moving behind Steve. "Stark knows this." Tony didn't respond. "Called the Avengers Initiative. The idea was to bring together a group of remarkable people and see if they could become something more. See if they could work together when we needed them to, to fight the battles that we never could." Eleanore fidgeted next to Steve, and Tony glanced back.

"Phil Coulson died still believing in that idea," Fury directed those words to Tony, who looked away, staring straight ahead. Eleanore moved again, pursing her lips in a thin line. She glanced at Steve, and he raised his eyebrows to ask _What?_ She mouthed _Never mind,_ and looked away.

"In heroes," Fury finished, and Tony Stark stood suddenly from his chair. He left the room without looking back.

"Well," Fury said softly, looking after him. "It's an old-fashioned notion." Steve felt those words, meant for him, as the memory of Coulson's faith in his abilities surfaced. _People might just need a little old-fashioned._

Fury left them there, sitting at the table in silence, walking away to direct repairs to the ship.

"Sneaky," Eleanore muttered, and Steve knew what she meant. Fury's words had been directed, and his actions planned.

"Still true though," he whispered, rising from his seat. Just because the speech was meant to evoke emotion didn't make it wrong. Steve didn't like being manipulated, but he knew that, at least for the most part, Fury had spoken the truth. Coulson had believed in him, and everyone else SHIELD had brought in. He'd known most of them personally, and they had counted on him in many ways. To have the faith of a dependable person was one of the highest honors anyone could achieve. It brought out the best in people, made them try. And now that their dependable person was gone, the entire team would want to fulfill his beliefs even more.

"You two should get some rest," Steve suggested, mostly meaning Eleanore. If there was a battle coming, they'd need her to pick up the pieces at the very least.

"So should you," she rebutted, purely stubborn, but she and Darren stood and made their way out of the room. "Call us if anything happens," she demanded, looking back with a small grin.

"I will," Steve promised. He watched the couple and the dragon leave, deciding on his next course of action. Most of the team was still around, just going by numbers, but most of their muscle was also gone. Hulk, if he had been in a better mood, might have helped fight the army that was now fast approaching. Thor knew Loki, and knew how he planned. He was also effective at close range and at a distance, thanks to his lightning.

Steve focused on who he had left. Tony and Darren Stark, Romanov, Jet, and Eleanore. Six people against an army of whatever Chitauri were. He didn't like the odds, but he was damned if he was going to give up without a fight, and he doubted they would either. Better to work together and possibly fail, because they would all die for sure if they worked alone.

"Agent Hill," he called, walking to the edge of the platform. "Can you locate Tony Stark for me?"

"He's down in the Hulk Containment Area." Hill didn't look up from the tablet she was working on.

"Thanks," Steve walked out of the room and took the stairs down several levels until he reached the floor he'd brought Eleanore to earlier. He was glad she'd pointed out the door, because they all looked the same. He easily remembered which one it was, and opened it silently, walking into the dark room that had been emptied of its cell.

Tony Stark was standing at the edge of one of the platforms that had been an observation point for the container. Steve chose to lean against the one nearest the door to give him some space. He thought about what he wanted to ask, trying to sift through his limited knowledge of Stark so he wouldn't set him off.

"Was he married?" was the first question Steve had always been asked whenever he had lost one of his men. It always made him glad he hadn't left behind a wife to worry about receiving a condolence letter. After Bucky died, there was no one left who would need one.

"No," Stark replied, sounding calm. "There was a— ah, cellist. I think." Steve wasn't fooled. Stark remembered everything. He was just trying to distance himself.

"I'm sorry," Steve still reverted to his war experience. "He seemed like a good man."

Stark let out a huff and nodded, "He was an idiot."

"Why?" Steve asked, not offended. This was how some people dealt with grief. One of his men had lost a brother to shelling and had bought a round of drinks the next day, declaring his idiot brother was at least safe from his own stupidity. "For believing?" If he drew enough information out of Stark, he would reveal his true thoughts. Or at least that's how it was supposed to work.

"For taking on Loki alone," Stark corrected him, stepping back form the edge. He looked at Steve with a challenging expression. He wanted to be proven wrong.

"He was doing his job," Steve protested flatly.

"He was out of his league," Tony scoffed. "He should have waited. He should have…" he trailed off, looking at the ground.

Now they were getting somewhere. "Sometimes there isn't a way out," Steve explained, recalling Stark's comment about cutting the wire.

"Right," Stark rasped. "I've heard that before." He walked past Steve, heading for the door.

Steve knew that he didn't have much time to reach Tony, so he went for the root of the problem. "Is this the first time you lost a soldier?"

"We are _not_ soldiers," Stark rounded on him, furious. He caught himself, looking surprised at his emotions. "My son and I aren't marching to Fury's fife."

Steve was impressed with how hard the older man was trying not to pick a fight. "Neither am I," he cautioned. "Fury's got the same blood on his hands that Loki does. But right now we've got to put that behind us and get this done." Stark looked away, but Steve kept talking, seeing a way to plan. "Now, Loki needs a power source. If we can make a list—"

"He made it personal," Stark met his eyes, and Steve noted the blood stain on the wall for the first time.

"That's not the point," he responded gently, trying to keep them on track. This guy was worse than Eleanore at keeping his attention focused.

"That is the point," Tony insisted. "That's Loki's point. He hit us all right where we live. Why?"

"To tear us apart," Steve answered the obvious. _Didn't we cover this already?_

"Yeah, divide and conquer is great, but he knows he has to take us out to win right? _That's_ what he wants." Stark was getting excited, his train of thought running faster than his mouth. "He wants to beat us, he wants to be seen doing it… He wants an audience."

"Right. I caught his act in Stuttgart," Steve agreed. Loki was a showboat, no doubt about it. But an army of aliens was going to attract attention no matter where they struck.

"Yeah. But that's just previews. This is opening night." Stark walked back up the stairs, pacing his energy out. "And Loki, he's a full-tilt diva." Steve didn't get it, but he let Stark keep talking, thinking the man was also describing himself. Maybe they'd figure something out. "He wants flowers, he wants parades, he wants a monument built to the skies with his name plaster—" Stark froze, and Steve saw such a building in his mind.

"Son of a bitch," Tony muttered, and began moving. Steve followed him to the door, and they planned on the way down the hall.

"I'll head out first," Stark told him, and for once Steve agreed.

"Just scope it out, try not to get involved."

"Right, and you gather the rest of them and get them on a quinjet," Stark was enthusiastic, clearly happy to have something to do.

"Wait, get Darren to go with you."

"No." Tony said forcefully. "We both know I'm going to mouth off to Loki. I don't want him there to face the consequences."

"You need backup," Steve protested, privately agreeing that the man's son needed a break from his snark, and some protection from the anger he caused. He still wondered how the kid had grown up so quiet. He'd ask Eleanore later.

"Then hurry up and get everyone assembled," Tony retorted, turning down a different hallway. "I have to stop at the tower and pick up a new suit anyway."

"Stay alive 'til we get there." Steve gave up trying to order the man around, deciding to pick his battles.

"I'll write you, Ma," Tony called over his shoulder, and Steve shook his head.

He went back to his room and put his suit on again, picking up his shield with a sigh. He could, he reminded himself, call the team together using the 'coms'. His was in his pocket, and when he put it on, it remained silent. Steve decided to find them and talk to them in person, starting with the ones whose location he knew.

"Eleanore," he knocked on her door quietly, hoping she'd at least been able to drink some water. There might have been time for a short nap, but if so, he was probably waking her up.

"What, Steve?" she stuck her head out of Darren's door, hair disheveled, suit gone. She looked like she'd been sleeping. Or something. Considering the recent sadness, Steve went with sleeping.

"Suit up," he said, walking to the door. Darren was standing right behind her, and Jet sat on the floor near the window. _So much for protecting them from real combat for a while,_ he thought, with a hint of sadness.

"Okay," Eleanore agreed. She looked much better than before, and she held a bottle of water in her hand.

"Did you find Loki?" Darren asked, punching a couple of buttons on his wristwatch again.

"Yeah, we think so. Your dad's going to the tower to stop him."

"That tower. That makes sense," Darren narrowed his eyes. "Any signs of that army?"

"Is there going to be a big battle?" Eleanore asked before Steve got a chance to answer.

"I think so," Steve watched their eyes, expecting apprehension at least. Instead, he saw calculation from her, and resignation from Darren.

"We should meet somewhere. I'm going to pick up a medic bag before I join you," Eleanore patted her hair and shrugged. "And I'm going to eat a protein bar."

"And I have to get my suit," Darren added. "Even if it's banged up, I can still get another one at the tower. I'll fly beside whatever plane you take."

"Good. Meet in the hangar, but don't look too interested in the planes," Steve decided. "And do you know where Romanov is?"

"Probably in medical with Barton. Up a level on the front right side of the carrier." Elle pulled a couple of bars from her small cupboard and handed one to Steve, and one to Darren.

"OK, see you at the hangar in ten," Steve started jogging down the hall back to the stairs, putting the bar in one of his pockets. He took the steps three at a time and walked quickly into the medical bay, noting Romanov's location by the red light outside the door. The rest were green and yellow. He walked up to the entrance and it opened automatically.

"Time to go," he said as Romanov turned and met his eyes.

"Go where?" she asked, impassive.

"I'll tell you on the way. Can you fly one of those jets?"

"I can," Barton opened to bathroom door, drying his hands. He looked shaken, but sturdy. Steve had never met the man before, and he didn't know if he was ready for active duty so soon after Loki's mind control.

Steve looked at Romanov for answers, and she gave him a small nod. _Good enough._

"You got a suit?" Barton nodded. "Then suit up."

 


	23. Chapter 23

Steve pulled his helmet-hood up as they neared the hangar. Eleanore, Jet, and Darren were waiting at the door, doing a bad job of being inconspicuous. At least Jet was still a dog. They had their suits on, and for the first time Steve noticed how different they were.

Darren's suit was much like his father's, but bulkier and built for protection. It had more shielding in the chest and neck areas, and the hand repulsors were supplemented by tiny guns on the wrists, and something that could have been a laser. The long-range gun was still on the back, though Steve had never seen Darren use it yet. It was no model he had ever seen, and he assumed the design was from one or both of the Starks. The helmet had rounded eye slots and a curved mouth, making it look more human. Its colors were also less flashy than the elder Stark liked, black and dark gray chrome replacing red and gold. It was muted, and it fit the designer's personality: a quiet protector, and a long-range fighter.

Eleanore's suit was a striking contrast. Aside from the bulky medic's bag slung over her shoulder, it fit to her body in many tiny scales, just like Jet's wings. When she moved, there was no mechanical noise to go with it, and when she walked it made barely a whisper. The helmet was not present, and Steve assumed it folded back at her command, fitting into the rest of the suit at the neck. The scales changed color when she moved, from light gray to violet, kind of like a crow's feather Steve remembered examining in the sun as a child. When the light hit the suit's motion, it was difficult to make out where exactly any one part of it was. A protective measure, Steve was sure, and one that Darren must have come up with when Eleanore refused to move around in a bulky container. He'd heard them arguing about that one day, because Darren wanted to make her a different, more protective suit, and he never knew who won until then.

"OK," Steve said as he reached the couple. He looked around, meeting everyone's eyes. "Let's go get a plane."

"That one," Romanov tilted her head slightly, indicating a quinjet sitting with its ramp down. Steve agreed with her choice. That jet had the clearest path out of the hangar.

They all started walking silently toward their chosen target. The hangar was mostly deserted, but the few people that did see them gave them strange looks, but did not interfere.

A young technician was replacing a parachute in the passenger area as they mounted the ramp. He looked up with dawning apprehension as Steve and the team faced him.

He began to protest, and Steve gave him marks for bravery. "Hey, y-you guys aren't authorized to be in here—"

"Son. Just don't." That was enough to make the buy scuttle away.

Hawkeye took the wheel, Romanov beside him as copilot. Steve and Eleanore settled into opposite seats, and Jet lay on the floor between them. Darren flew outside ahead of them, acting as an escort as they exited the hangar's open doors. His suit malfunctioned from time to time, and Eleanore watched him through the windshield in quiet concern.

They were not far from Manhattan, and as the bridge came into sight Darren sped up and left them.

"I'm going to get a different suit," he explained through the coms and the plane's speakers.

"Tell us what it's like at the tower," Eleanore told him.

"Okay." Silence for a moment. "Actually, you can probably guess."

"Tony fighting Loki?" Steve put in as the visuals appeared on the monitors.

"Yes." Darren sounded unamused. "And he isn't wearing a suit. And now he's falling out a window. I should catch— oh, wait there's the suit." He sounded slightly relieved, but more tense than ever. Steve guessed that the sight of his father being tossed around like a rag doll was not one the young man had ever wanted to see. "Loki's acting so weird," he began, and Steve was about to ask that that meant when a beam shot from the top of the tower into the sky, brighter than daylight. A hole was ripped in the blue sky, and Steve saw unfamiliar stars shining through.

"Hey Dad, since one window's already broken…" Darren spoke in a more jovial tone.

"It's coming out of your allowance," Tony joked, abandoning his dispute with Loki and flying up to meet the specks that were descending from the portal.

Darren dove through a large window on another floor as the quinjet neared the tower.

"You can let us off here," Eleanore told Romanov, walking to the hatch with Jet at her side, the medical pack slung over her shoulders and fastened around her waist. She hit the switch and opened the door.

"Good luck," Clint shouted over the roar of the wind. Eleanore waved absently over her shoulder as her helmet settled over her head. She backed up a step, and together she and Jet took a running jump from the plane.

Steve watched as Jet transformed midair and Eleanore grabbed onto his back. They flew together toward the tower, shooting through the window Darren had just broken. Another red blur flew through the air after them, and landed on the balcony of Stark Tower. Thor had joined the party.

The two brothers started fighting and some of the letters got knocked off the tower and onto the street below.

"We need to minimize civilian casualties," Steve said into the coms. Romanov looked over her shoulder and nodded to show she'd heard.

"Stark, we're on your 3 headed north east," she said, and Steve heard a sigh on the other end.

"What, did you stop for drive through?" Stark's face appeared on the display. "Swing up Park, I'm gonna lay them out for you."

Steve stood as the jet came to an intersection. Stark flew past, followed by some sort of hovercraft piloted by reptilian creatures. Romanov manned the guns and shot many of the ones that flew by. They dodged through the smoke of the wreckage and made for the tower once more.

"Nat," Barton said as they leveled with Loki and Thor's fight.

"I see them," she responded, pointing the artillery their way. Just as she started shooting at Loki, though, he threw Thor off and aimed his scepter at them, firing a shot that blasted through the left wing.

The plane started tilting, and Steve saw Jet and Darren flash by the window as they listed downward. Smoke filled the view from the windshield after that, and Steve grabbed the bars on the ceiling, his feet leaving the floor as the plane twirled.

They made it around a building, but hit another one with the undamaged wing. Steve lost his grip in one hand as they plummeted to the ground.

The landing was rough, chinks of stone and cement ground up by the jet, but they were all unharmed as Romanov opened the back hatch again and they ran out into the noise-filled, chaotic street.

"We've got to get back up there!" Steve said aloud, not knowing if the coms picked it up. He, Barton, and Romanov ran toward Stark Tower's ornate front entrance. They were making good progress, and Steve was confident they could ride the elevator, or even take the stairs up to help Thor defeat Loki.

A groaning sound, like a ship in a storm, made Steve pause and look up to the portal. Behind him, the two agents froze, and they all witnessed the flying monstrosity shooting out of the hole in the sky.

Steve's heart sank as he looked around at all the people still running away from the comparatively tiny hovercrafts. There was no way to direct them all, with as much panic and fear as this beast would instill. It descended quickly, and flew close over their heads, knocking down a statue in front of them and continuing down the street. Its sides started flashing, and aliens shot out, similar to the hovercraft ones, clawing into the sides of buildings and screeching. They flew through windows, and flashes appeared where they landed, signaling gunfire.

 _Not even the buildings are safe_ , Steve thought, looking around at the hopeless scene. People were already dying. He could hear the screams. If they could stop that battleship, then maybe they could take out the hovering ones.

"Stark are you seeing this?" he asked, hoping he'd have an answer.

" _Seeing, still working on believing_ ," Tony replied. " _Where's Banner, has he shown up yet?_ "

"Banner?" Steve was confused.

" _Just keep me posted,_ " Tony's voice cut off as he flew overhead, tracking the behemoth.

A few of the aliens jumped down, and Steve dispatched them with a throw of his shield. Barton and Romanov crouched behind an abandoned taxi cab, and he joined them, looking for information.

"We've got civilians trapped in—"Barton started, only to be cut off by blasts from approaching hovercraft. Steve recognized a figure riding on one of the vehicles.

"Loki," he noted, and Barton and Romanov watched with him as the demigod disappeared, shooting cars and creating general chaos along the way. The people below the bridge were running and screaming, unable to run into the buildings, and exposed when they stayed on the street. "They're fish in a barrel down there."

"Go," Romanov nodded to him. "We got this. It's good, go."

"You think you can hold them off?" Steve asked, not wanting to split up the team any more than he had to.

"Captain," Barton said, notching an arrow. "It would be my genuine pleasure." He shot the arrow into the head of one of the Chitauri, and it released bullets on contact, taking another one down with it.

Steve stood and started running while Romanov provided cover fire. He jumped from the bridge and rolled onto a bus parked below it, avoiding fire from hovercraft swarming over the street. He ran up to a group of policemen who were shouting at each other in confusion. They jumped when Steve landed on top of one of their cars, out of breath.

"You need men in these buildings," Steve told them, speaking mostly to the chief. "There are people inside, and they're going to be running right into the line of fire. You take them to the basements or the subways. You keep them off the streets." He looked around, getting his bearings. "I need a perimeter as far back as 39th."

"Why the hell should I take orders from you?" the chief asked.

Steve paused, used to being obeyed. _Is Captain America not good enough for you?_ He heard shots and explosions from behind them and turned to face them, holding his shield up as a few Chitauri landed beside him on the car. Steve blocked a shot from one and knocked it down with a punch, then hit the other with his shield, either knocking it out or killing it. The first one came back, and Steve grabbed its gun and severed its arm with a well-placed blow to the joint. The creature screamed and he smacked it with his shield again so it flew back into a car.

The chief turned around to his men. "I need men in those buildings. Lead the people down and away from the streets." He spoke into his radio, "We're gonna set up a perimeter all the way down to 39th Street."

Steve hid a grin as more aliens joined the fight in his area. He was occupied for a few minutes with keeping the policemen alive as they received their orders. Once they set out into the buildings, he stood and looked around.

" _Hey,_ " Eleanore's voice came from his ear as the air stirred around him. He looked around and saw Jet landing ten feet away, crumpling an empty car.

"What's it look like from up there?" Steve asked her, walking up to Jet's side as her helmet folded back. They had put on the saddle, so she was more flexible in the air.

"The destruction is surprisingly contained, thanks to Tony and Darren," Elle brushed some stray hair out of her eyes. "Three square blocks. We've helped a bit, too. How are you? Here, take a drink." She handed him a bottle of water and he gratefully drained it.

"I'm fine," Steve told her. "The ones on the ground have almost no armor. Just hit them in the head or the joints, and they're toast."

"I'll keep that in mind. Hey," she glanced around. "How much do you think the city would care if I had Jet take out a couple fire hydrants?"

"Considering all this," Steve motioned to everything, "not that much."

"Cool. You heard him, Jet," Eleanore jumped from the dragon's back, and Steve caught her as she hit the ground. Jet snorted and walked over to the nearest hydrant, knocking aside easily with his clawed foot.

"Okay, we're back in business," Eleanore put her helmet back up, so her voice came through the com again. " _I'm going to sweep the buildings and see how money people need healing,"_ she motioned to Jet, who came to stand beside her again. " _Jet's going to do more air support. We saw Loki on a hovercraft and he looked like he was shitting bricks when Jet fired at him."_

Steve almost laughed at the image. Almost. "Keep your coms open so you can hear if we need you somewhere else," he ordered her, and she nodded.

" _You got it."_ She turned and ran down the sidewalk into a building that was being sprayed with hydrant water. Steve saw a policeman greet her, and his eyes widened as a large volume of water followed her into the lobby.

Jet watched her go as well, then blinked at Steve before he spread his wings and took off. Almost immediately, a hovercraft without Loki on it flew around a corner and shot at him. Jet opened his mouth and fired a blue-flamed blast that incinerated the occupants and sent the ship crashing down in a charred heap. Jet flew gracefully down the block, dipping his tail to take out another hydrant before shooting up into the sky.

Seeing that the people on this level of the street were taken care of, Steve ran back to the bridge where Barton and Romanov were fighting. He leapt over the railing, taking out a Chitauri soldier before lighting fell from the sky and fried the remaining ones.

Thor landed in their midst, stumbling and clearly in pain.

"Eleanore," Steve called through the com. "We need you up on the bridge right now."

" _How am I supposed to get up there?"_ she asked, sounding confused. " _Oh, never mind. There's a car I can climb."_

"What's the story upstairs," Steve asked as they waited for her to show up. Barton walked around collecting his arrows, and Romanov went to the edge to the bridge and gave Eleanore a hand up.

"The power surrounding the cube is impenetrable," Thor told him.

" _Thor's right_ ," Tony supplied, coming in flying above them. " _We've gotta deal with these guys._ "

"How do we do this," Romanov asked, walking up with Eleanore.

"As a team," Steve replied, wishing for a better answer. He needed to plan.

"Here Thor," Eleanore said, her helmet folding back again. She rested her hand on the demigod's side, and he watched with something like wonder as silver light flowed from her finger tips and healed his wound.

"I have unfinished business with Loki," Thor commented as Elle drew back. She looked fine, taking a drink from a water bottle she pulled out of her pack, and Steve guessed that the wound wasn't severe.

"Yeah, get in line," Barton shot back.

"Save it," Steve commanded, cutting him off. "Loki's going to keep this fight focused on us, and that's what we need. Without him, these things could run wild." Steve took a deep breath and let the facts flow through his mind, picking out what was important. "We've got Stark up top. He's gonna need us—" he stopped, hearing a sputtering engine coming up behind him.

Steve and the rest of the team turned and saw Banner, riding a decrepit motorcycle and wearing extremely baggy clothes. He parked the bike and walked up to them, and they met him in the middle.

"So," he began, stretching his arms. "This all seems horrible."

"I've seen worse," Romanov commented, looking him up and down.

"Sorry," Banner apologized. Steve wondered what had happened between them.

"No, we could use a little… worse." Romanov assured Banner, and they focused once again.

"Stark, we've got him," Steve said into the coms.

" _Banner?"_

"Just like you said."

" _Then tell him to suit up,"_ Tony sounded thrilled. " _I'm bringing the party to you."_

Behind Banner, Stark's suit whirled around a building and headed straight for them. Right behind him came the giant Chitauri mother ship, roaring with rage, Darren shooting a laser into its side.

"I don't see how that's a party," Romanov commented dryly.

Banner said nothing, just turned and walked toward the low-flying monster.

"Dr. Banner," Steve warned him. "Now might be a really good time for you to get angry."

"That's my secret, Captain," Banner turned back and smiled. "I'm always angry." The beast had almost reached him, but as he turned back he transformed effortlessly into the Hulk and punched it square in the snout. The layer of metal crumpled, and the alien came to a dead stop, flipping over and about to crush the team. Metal cracked and fell as its joints broke one by one, and Steve was calculating how to get them all out of the way before it hit them.

" _Hold on,_ " Stark said and shot a missing into its exposed flesh.

Steve covered Romanov with his shield, and saw that Darren was standing over Eleanore as the thing exploded into sparks. They were showered with metal and singed body parts, and the head rolled off the bridge, but everyone was fine.

A weird roaring sound filled the air, and they all looked up to find the Chitauri screaming at them from where they clung to the sides of buildings. Hulk roared back a challenge. The team circled up, each facing a different direction as they prepared for the next attack.

"Guys," Romanov drew their attention back to the portal, from which more huge alien creatures were issuing.

"Call it, Captain," Tony Stark said.

Steve felt the team behind him, and for the first time he felt their support as well. "Alright, listen up. Until we close that portal, our priority is containment. Barton, I want you on that roof, calling out patterns and strays." Steve pointed to the tallest building beside Stark Tower. "Stark, Darren, you got the perimeter. Anything get more than three blocks out, you turn it back or you turn it to ash."

"Want to give me a lift?" Barton asked Tony.

"Right. Better clench up, Legolas." Tony and Darren took off, dropping Barton on the roof as they left.

"Thor," Steve continued, drawing the demigod's attention back. "You've got to try and bottleneck that portal. Slow them down. You've got the lightning: light the bastards up." Thor nodded and flew away. Steve turned to Romanov and Eleanore. "We're on the ground. Keep the fighting here. And Hulk," Steve was suddenly the object of an intense, green gaze. "Smash."

The Hulk smiled and launched into the air, making mincemeat out of the Chitauri lining the building's walls.

The sky darkened as Steve, Eleanore, and Romanov turned back to the ground. Chitauri were coming, running up from all sides. Lightning lit the Empire State Building, and Steve glanced up once more to see an electric traffic jam stalling the aliens at the portal.

After that, there was no time to look up. More and more aliens kept falling from the sky. As soon as he'd killed one, two more would pop up. Eleanore and Romanov were holding their own, one with water as a weapon, which was very impressive now that Steve saw it in action, the other with acrobatic hand-to-hand combat that leveled Chitauri before they even saw her coming.

Steve could hear discussion between his teammates through the speaker in his ear. They were finally working together, like a team. Barton lived up to his nickname of Hawkeye by pointing out enemies to Tony and Darren, and observing their weak points. Thor just kept throwing lightning at everything, and Steve suspected that if he had an ear piece it would have been fried. Similarly, Hulk would have smashed his, so Steve kept tabs on him by listening to the distinctive roars.

"I'm glad I'm sweating so much," Eleanore commented to him as they fought a couple aliens back to back. "Because otherwise I would really need to pee."

"No bathroom breaks in battle," Steve commented, and then they were whirled apart by another group of Chitauri.

They were battling for their lives, and it lasted so long that even Steve was getting tired. Sometimes Jet would make a round, swinging low and blasting large groups of aliens with fire before hitting the skies again. Steve was grateful for the breaks, as he was getting tired. Romanov was flagging too, and Eleanore's motions had become more about defense. She stuck close to the spy and the Super Soldier, watching their backs instead of picking new battles. Her walls of water actually absorbed the energy of the Chitauri weapons' blasts, so they were what she used the most.

Steve saw Romanov struggling out of the corner of his eye, and ran to help her. She was being crushed and nearly stabbed by a large Chitauri, but she swung around its neck using her legs and electrocuted its nervous system. Or something. In any case, it fell, and she grabbed its spear and pointed it at Steve as he jumped form a car. They were caught in a lull for a moment, and Eleanore ran up from the other side. They rested together, leaning against a taxi.

"Captain," Romanov commented. "None of this is going to mean a damn thing if we don't close that portal."

"Our biggest guns couldn't touch it," Steve pointed out, watching more hovercraft flying through.

"Well, maybe it's not about guns," Romanov looked to the other end of the bridge, where Chitauri were jumping from vehicles to join the fight.

"If you want to get up there, you're gonna need a ride." Steve scanned the sky for a flying ally, but found nothing.

"I've got a ride," the spy told him, backing up and surveying oncoming hovercraft. She walked to the other side of the bridge. "Could use a boost, though."

Steve readied himself, both for her jump and for failure. "You sure about this?"

"Yeah, it'll be fun." Romanov deadpanned as she took a running start, jumped on a car, and vaulted off his shield, grabbing onto an alien ship as it zoomed overhead.

Steve allowed himself a second to appreciate the feat.

"She makes me wish I was a dancer," Eleanore commented from the other side of the car. A blast hit the mortar next to her, and she flinched, drawing up her water again.

Steve decided to stay near her as much as possible. She was getting worn down, her hair dusty and matted, her movements slow. She wiped a drop of sweat from her forehead and sent spikes of ice through the oncoming alien's chest.

"That's a new one," Steve commented, coming up beside her and tossing his shield.

"Yeah, I just figured it out," Eleanore waved her arms around and formed a dome around them that absorbed the shots. "Let's see if this works." She stilled, and the water cleared so they could see the oncoming group of Chitauri. Then she drew her arm back and a block of ice formed in front of them. She made a punching motion, grunting with effort, and the ice block smashed over and through five aliens.

"Whew," she bent over, hands on her knees. "That took a lot. Not doing that again."

"Look alive," Steve warned her, moving to stand between her and another group that had just landed.

"Hey, look," Eleanore pointed, but Steve was shooting a couple of aliens bounding at them. "Okay, ignore it. But the National Guard's here."

"That's great. They'll help with the ground troops and evacuation," Steve already saw groups of civilians being herded into subway tunnels by people in camouflage uniforms out of the corner of his eye.

"Steve!" Eleanore yelled, but not in time to alert him as he was tackled from behind. The alien tried stabbing him with a spear, but Steve punched it as hard as he could, denting its throat. It collapsed and didn't rise.

" _Captain,"_ Barton said. " _Bank on 47 past Madison. They cornered a lot of civilians in there."_

"I'm on it," Steve replied, looking up as Jet landed.

"We'll come with you for outside backup," Eleanore said. "So you can get the people out."

They ran through debris, using Jet as a moving shield. Steve felt bad for the dragon, but he didn't seem to mind, no matter how many times a blast hit it.

"Scales," Eleanore explained breathlessly. "They're too strong."

Steve said nothing in reply, and they skidded to a stop in front of the bank.

"I'll come in and help—" Eleanore began.

"No," Steve interrupted her. "Keep this street clear, and make sure that subway tunnel is open for the civilians."

"Fine, be careful." She turned back and used a stream of water to whip a Chitauri in the neck.

Steve climbed a trailed and leapt through a broken second story window, right into a group of aliens with a beeping grenade. He threw his shield at the one with the explosive, killing it and causing it to drop, then he dove behind a heavy desk as the others fired at him. The desk was old, solid wood, and it slid fast as Steve kicked it, smashing one of the aliens against the railing and knocking the other one over. The smashed one was still alive, so Steve ran up to it and broke its neck, sending it over the railing and onto the crowded floor below.

"Everyone, clear out!" he yelled, the bomb still beeping loudly in his ears. Another alien tackled him from behind, clinging to his back and pulling his mask off. Steve elbowed it and used it as a shield as shots started coming his way from the last alien. It picked up the bomb, which was beeping more and more urgently, and prepared to throw it at him. Steve picked up his shield and jumped so he was curled behind it as the blast tore through the room.

He was thrown out the window, and landed stomach-first on a car, smashing through the roof and some of his ribs. He rose stiffly, and saw police and firemen were guiding the people out with Jet as a guard. Eleanore was running toward him.

"What was that?" she asked, holding his chin to make him look her in the eye. "No concussion. Let's see…" she felt along his abdomen, and Steve grabbed her hand before it got to the bad part.

"I'm fine," he insisted. "Go heal the civilians."

"No," Eleanore stared defiantly at him. "Medics can disobey orders, can't they? So hold still, and tell me what that blast was."

"Some kind of grenade," Steve gave up and let her prod him, leaning back against the car for a moment.

"Three broken ribs," Eleanore squared her feet and placed her hand over the worst of the pain. "Can you try not to breathe a lot?"

"I can try," Steve grunted, feeling one rib slide into place with a _snap_.

"Sorry, that had to happen," Eleanore looked up apologetically. "The rest won't hurt."

It didn't hurt, Steve was impressed to find. He barely felt it at all. It was just a slight tingling followed by warmth. He looked around to make sure no more Chitauri were sneaking up on them as they were distracted.

"Hold st— woah," Steve moved a little too much, and Eleanore's legs buckled as she tried to follow him. He caught her, marveling at the absence of the pain, and worried by how pale her face had suddenly gotten.

"Where's your water?" Steve asked, setting her upright again. She stood on her own, but it was shaky.

"I can get water," Eleanore waved her hand and some appeared in the air. She drank it. "What I probably need is food."

"Here," Steve fished the protein bar out of his pocket and gave it to her. Jet came up beside them as she wolfed it down.

"Thanks," Elle sighed, and Steve took the wrapper from her and put it back in his pocket. She started laughing.

"What?"

"Good thing you're not littering," she gasped, leaning on his arm for support. "Wouldn't want to mess up the pristine streets."

Steve glanced around at the destruction. He didn't feel a lot of humor, and he suspected that she did only because she was so tired. "I think we need you both in the air again. I haven't gotten a report from Barton in a while."

"You need backup down here," Eleanore protested, her face growing serious again. "Look, I'll be a grown up. I stopped laughing, see?"

"That's not it—" Steve began, and was interrupted as Thor landed next to them, breathing heavily.

"My friends," he said loudly. "I do not believe the Chitauri have any more large monster ships to send in the near future."

"Then stay and help me here," Steve told him. Thor nodded, brandishing his hammer.

"Fine, let me know if you need help," Eleanore climbed onto Jet's back and her helmet settled over her head.

A group of Chitauri landed a little ways off, and Steve and Thor got to work. They complemented each other nicely, both close-combat, both used to using their strength. Thor watched his back when Steve was dealing with a stubborn alien, and Steve did the same for him. Things were going fine until a large group converged on them all at once.

Steve and Thor got separated for the briefest of moments, and a shot flew out of nowhere, hitting Steve in the side and burning through his uniform. He felt to the ground with a grunt, and had a hard time getting back up. Thor covered for him, catching shots with his hammer and smashing a car into the most numerous pack of Chitauri. He sent his hammer flying again, and Steve heard it smashing aliens as Thor helped him up.

"You ready for another bout?" Thor asked, giving Steve a moment to rest.

"Why, you getting sleepy?" Steve was taken back for a moment to battles with Bucky at his side. Thor didn't answer, and the illusion was shattered.

" _I can close it,"_ Romanov's voice came through, strained. " _I can shut the portal down. Can anyone copy?"_

"Do it!" Steve shouted, bringing a hand to his ear.

" _No, wait!"_ Tony's voice sounded panicked.

"Stark, these things are still coming!" Steve was trying to explain, thinking he should already know this.

" _I've got a nuke coming in. It's going to blow in less than a minute. "_ Steve's heart felt frozen as he thought of them millions of civilians that someone— _SHIELD?_ — was just giving up on. He remembered the bombs leveled at Japan after he went into the ice, and he shuddered. " _And I know just where to put it."_

" _Dad, you're really low on power. That's a one-way trip."_ Darren's voice was flat, emotionless. Steve felt for the young man, who was watching his father's sacrifice.

Tony didn't answer them, and they watched in silence as the missile headed straight for Stark Tower, with the Iron Man suit under it. It skidded against the side of the building before shooting straight into the air, Tony guiding it along.

Darren came and landed beside Steve and Thor, watching as the missile and the man disappeared into the hold in the sky. He kept his helmet folded up to cover his face. They all watched, looking for a reason to hope, but there was no indication that anything had changed.

"His suit's dark," Darren said quietly.

Chitauri began falling from the sides of buildings, and the giant ones fell from the sky, draping over buildings and streets. Steve watched it happen with hope and dread warring for a place in his mind.

There were a few tense seconds during which Romanov kept the portal open. They all hoped for a miracle. Then a bright flash made its way through the small window in space and Steve knew he had to make a call or expose Manhattan to deadly radiation.

"Close it," he ordered, not wanting to meet Darren's gaze.

There was a straining noise from Romanov's com, and the stream of light from the top of Stark Tower stopped, rippling over the portal in waves like water.

Jet and Eleanore landed behind them, and Eleanore ran up to Darren and took his hand. Everyone stared at the sky.

The hole grew smaller and smaller, and Steve looked away as it closed completely.

"Tony!" Eleanore yelled, yanking Darren's arm and pointing at a speck that had fallen through the portal just as it closed.

"Son of a gun!" Steve exclaimed quietly, feeling hope take despair's place.

They watched the figure fall, but no rockets engaged.

"He's not slowing down," Thor twirled his hammer, and Darren's repulsors whirred.

Before they could take off, there was a resounding roar, and Hulk jumped across the empty space, catching Stark in his arms. Hulk slid down a building and pushed off, landing on his back to keep from squashing the smaller man in the suit. He grunted, pushing Stark off of him and onto the ground.

The assembled Avengers ran over and knelt beside Stark, Darren turning him over onto his back, and Thor ripping his mask away. Tony lay there, eyes closed, not stirring. It was hard to tell if he was breathing or not with the suit on.

"Move," Eleanore slid up next to the Hulk, who got out of the way. She gently slapped Stark's face, "Tony, can you hear me? Open your eyes. It's Elle." There was no response. She held her ear over his mouth, listening, and everyone fell still. Eleanore lifted her head with a frustrated sigh, "Fuck."

Hulk suddenly roared, making them all jump.

"Haaaaugh!" Tony yelled, coming to life with their shock. Hulk roared again, pounding his chest with deafening satisfaction.

"What the hell," Tony gasped, looking around. His suit held him down. Steve backed up so Darren could sit next to his father. "What just happened? Please tell me nobody kissed me."

"I almost did," Eleanore deadpanned. "It's your fault for not breathing."

They laughed, Darren folded his helmet back to reveal a relieved smile, and Tony still looked around, as though waiting for more aliens to appear and shoot them up.

Steve decided to reassure him. "We won."

Tony sighed with relief. "Alright, yay!" he said unenthusiastically. "Alright, good job, guys.' He strained against his suit, grunting. "Let's just not come in tomorrow. Let's just… take a day."

"You ever tried Shawarma?" he continued, and Steve finally let himself smile. "There's a Shawarma joint about two blocks from here. I don't know what it is, but I want to try it."

"We're not finished yet," Thor cautioned, and the mood shifted to a more serious tone.

Tony looked up at them, resigned. "And then Shawarma after."

Darren helped Tony power his suit back up so he could move around in it, and they ripped the helmet off the back so he could have a full range of vision. The team gathered in front of the tower, and prepared to go up together.

Retrieving Loki from Stark Tower was by far the easiest part of the mission. The dark haired demigod was crawling up the steps stiffly when the team silently filed in. He froze and turned to face them slowly.

"If it's all the same to you," he said, wincing in pain, his expression not in the least bit ashamed or frightened. "I'll have that drink now."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The Avengers" and "Learning The Ropes" are over, but the fun is just getting started! Check out "One Day At A Time" for a continuation of Steve's adventures and then some.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm finally getting around to posting this fiction here from fanfiction.net! Hope you enjoy it!


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